Forgotten
by Sepia Painter
Summary: They thought it was a genetic disease. They were wrong. It was something much, much worse. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue: Tired

**Title:** Forgotten

**Warnings:** Rated M. Violence, language, possible sexual themes.

**Disclaimer:** Gravitation and it's characters do not belong to me. I just like torturing them.

**Authors Note: **This is mostly just a taste of what's to come. None of the chapters are as short as this prologue, in fact they are much longer. Hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think and if you're interested in my continuing.

* * *

**Forgotten****  
**Prologue: Tired

* * *

The fall of that year had been unusually cold and rainy. The snow and ice, the frosty mornings where cars were frozen shut, arrived a month and a half early that year.

Shuichi awoke early that morning, too early. It was dark outside, the streetlamps still glowing brightly through the blinds on the windows. It was raining hard, the drops smacking repeatedly against the window pane in tiny tinkling rhythm.

His eyes hurt, his body hurt, he was still too tired to really understand that the bed was empty next to him. Shuichi raised his head to stare at the alarm clock. Unable to comprehend that it was four in the morning until he'd read the numbers blinking at him with blinding, fuzzy red lights three or four times. He sighed and shoved his head into his pillow, hoping the pain would go away.

His cheeks felt stiff and crusted over. His eyes felt like they were swollen, bulging from his face. He was cold, he was uncomfortable.

With sudden coherency he recognized that he was alone.

Yuki wasn't in bed. Not unusual.

But he wasn't in his study either. There was no clack of computer keys from the other room, no smell of smoke coming through the windows from the balcony, no glaring blue lights from a muted television. The entire apartment was empty.

Shuichi was completely alone.

He stood up, feeling wobbly and uncertain on his feet. There was confusion in his footsteps as he stumbled from one room to the other trying to find Yuki. His mumbled sighs were too loud in the silent apartment.

"Yuki…?"

The bathrooms were empty.

"Yuki…?"

The kitchen was deserted.

"Yuki…?"

Car keys, jacket, cell phone. Gone.

"Yuki!?"

Closet emptied of all Yuki's clothes, suitcases gone, laptop gone, cigarettes, toothbrush, soaps, razor, books.

All gone.

Shuichi's knees hit the floor, and the rest of his body followed slowly. Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and he was just so tired, and the room was spinning, and the world was falling.

He was so tired.

* * *

**End-1**


	2. In My Best Interests

**Forgotten  
**Chapter One: In My Best Interests

* * *

"What are you doing on the floor, brat?"

That didn't make sense. He wasn't on the floor, was he?

He moved and pain shot up his back. Oh yeah. He was on the floor.

"Get up." That voice was so gruff it hurt his ears. Something in his brain clicked and something in his heart stopped at the same moment. Shuichi opened his eyes, found himself level with the dark hardwood of Eiri's living room floor, and saw a pair of shoes not two inches from his face.

"Are you listening? Get up off my floor."

"Shut up." Shuichi snapped. Something in the back of his brain was screaming that he was being mean, that he shouldn't have said that, but whatever had clicked in his thoughts moments ago was silencing that part of himself.

"Excuse me?"

"I said shut up." Shuichi raised his upper body off the floor, his head felt heavy and his back and chest were stiff and painful. He put his hands to his face and held his tongue before he said something else he'd regret later. Everything felt so wrong. He couldn't remember why he was on the floor; he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there or what he'd been doing the night before.

There were quiet footsteps treading down the hall. Shuichi watched the backs of Eiri's legs walk away, feeling a bitter pain in his stomach rising, rising.

He hurled. There wasn't much in his stomach to give, and the bile burned his throat. Eiri came stomping back, his expression irritated, but not quite angry.

"You couldn't move your ass _away_ from my floor before you barfed on it?"

Shuichi wiped his lips on his arm, shaking, wanting nothing more than to lie down, but the only place to lie was in his own bile. His chest clenched and he felt like, if he'd been strong enough to attempt it, he would have loved to punch Eiri at that moment. The thought shocked him. He stared at the contents of his stomach with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Get the fuck up. Go take a shower." Eiri growled, trying to grab Shuichi's arm and yank him to a standing position. Shuichi felt his body being lifted, but his stomach threatened to heave.

Eiri cradled him in his arms, striding down the hall to the master bath. As they crossed the bedroom, Shuichi caught sight of the large suitcase and suddenly everything came back. His blurry awakening, the frantic search, the disbelief, the darkness. Eiri set him down outside the bathroom door.

"If you need to hurl, do it in here."

Shuichi leaned against the doorway, trying not to fall. He heard clanking in the other room, the sounds and smells of Eiri cleaning the room with harsh chemicals. Shuichi curved around to the tub and turned on the water as hot as he could stand. He didn't feel like he could stand for even a moment longer than necessary.

The tub filled with water, steam rolling off it in waves until the room was muggy and the mirror was fogged over. Shuichi peeled his clothes off; they were stuck to him, the marks of their fabric imprinted in his skin like temporary bruises. He dipped into the water slowly, feeling the heat. It almost burned, but it felt good.

There were more clattering sounds, angry hisses that sounded like cursing, a strong stench of floor cleaner wafting in from the front room. Shuichi took his favorite bottle of shampoo and opened it, pouring out too much into his hand and lathering it into his hair and on his shoulders and face, trying to drown out the smell of puke and chemicals and sweat.

He'd spent a few minutes watching bubbles dissolve from his skin into the water when a sudden voice made him jump.

"When I left you were in bed."

He turned and glared at Eiri. "I woke up."

"More like sleep walking." Eiri replied harshly, fumbling with a pack of cigarettes. "Moron."

"Why did you come back?"

"Seguchi called one hundred times too many. When I finally picked up he said you hadn't shown for work and wanted to know why the hell no one was answering the phone at home."

"What time is it?"

"Seven p.m."

Shuichi looked at the water, face flushing. When had he woken up the night before? Four in the morning? He'd laid on the ground unconscious for over twelve hours. "So you came back to check if I was alive?"

"I came back to check if you were dead."

Shuichi put his head underwater, trying not to let Eiri see the pain on his face. Something inside was breaking. Snapping in two. That was so agonizing to hear out of Eiri's mouth. It didn't matter if he was kidding or not. It didn't matter if he'd regret it later on, or apologize in a few hours. Shuichi popped up out of the soapy water, and then with a lunge of his right arm, sprayed a wave of hot water out of the tub, directly at Eiri.

His mark was hit. Eiri spluttered and gasped, shock and anger evident in his posture and on his face. Expecting an explosion, Shuichi heaved himself out of the tub, his body still dreadfully weak, but the muscles weren't so tense now that he'd had a moment to relax.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and pushed past Eiri without incident. The author's bewildered expression and eyes told Shuichi that he still hadn't processed what had just happened.

Shuichi crossed the carpet to the closet, still empty on Eiri's side. He grabbed the nearest shirt he could find and tossed a pair of cargo pants next to it and then stumbled to the bureau for his undergarments. He was feeling hurt and stress, and grief and sorrow and pain, something in his heart ached and something in his mind screamed for it to stop.

He didn't know what was going on anymore.

"Shuichi." Normally the use of his first name by his lover would have sent Shuichi into bounding, leaping, electric happiness. However, the cold tone and hate and danger behind the name made him cringe.

"What, Eiri?"

That stopped the novelist dead, for about a second. Never had Shuichi used his lovers true name, never had he even seemed to acknowledge that there was any other name for him, other than 'Yuki'. There was a moment of rigid stillness.

Eiri was the first to break it. "You just ruined a five-hundred dollar Armani silk shirt." His tone was scarily conversational and quiet.

"If you're worried about your clothes being ruined, maybe you shouldn't buy five-hundred dollar shirts."

"What the fuck is with you?"

"I'm sick, Eiri!" Shuichi screamed, throwing on his clothes and then collapsing on the bed, his energy for standing long spent. "I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. I woke up in a panic because you left and I didn't know where the hell you'd gone, and then I woke up on your floor feeling like shit, and all you have to say to me is 'I came back to see whether or not you were dead'."

Eiri wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Shuichi so angry in the two years they'd known each other. "It's the truth."

"It fucking hurts!" In a split second his expression turned bewildred. "I... I don't feel good," he whispered.

Eiri quietly stripped off his ruined shirt and his pants and dug through his suitcase to find another outfit.

Eiri was shuffling through the closet. Shuichi felt his eyse close. He was tired again. His head hurt horibbly. The sound of the zipper on the suitcase was too loud. The thump of clothes faling to the hardwood floor was screaming inside his eardrums.

"I think it's in my best interests if you leave right now." Eiri said, his voice leveling just above a hiss. Shuichi didn't say anything. His eyes closed in silent defeat. "Get out." Eiri muttered when he recieved no response. "If you're so fucking sick you can get better at that faggot Nakano's house. Do whatever the fuck you want there." He gathered up his clothes out of the suitcase, shoved Shuichi's things in, and latching it shut again he said, "You can even die, if you want, but get out of my house first."

Shuichi's eyes spilled over with tears. Eiri was grabbing him up again, cradling him in his arms, forcing a jacket and a phone into his lap as he carried Shuichi and the suitcase out of the building. The singer's body met cold cement and his feeble strength left him helpless, even though he wanted nothing more than to fight back, to hold onto the warm arms that were leaving him helpless. His fingers grasped the fabric of Eiri's shirt, and he held on as he tried to say no, to refuse, to fight back, to do anything but accept what was happening.

Cold fingers were prying his grip loose. The front door snapped shut with more force than was really necessary. Shuichi fumbled for his phone, pushed speed dial two, and cried as he waited for Hiro to answer.

* * *

**End-2**


	3. Nightmare

**Forgotten  
**Chapter Two: Nightmare

* * *

He dreamt of Eiri's eyes that night. The way they burned, a sooty gold containing anger and danger and hate. He dreamt of his voice, rough velvet, coming out as no more than a whispered growl. He dreamt of hot water, burning his skin and cleaning him of his sins, or maybe it was his past, he wasn't sure. He woke more than once that first night, screaming at the top of his lungs for redemption and forgiveness.

Hiro's fingers were at the back of his head, nails massaging into his scalp, cooling, calming, whispering sweet nothings to make him understand that it was all a dream, it was all a nightmare, it was all his imagination.

Shuichi didn't feel like it could possibly be imagined. He woke up and felt the fire all over his body, demons dancing in his blood.

And then it was Saturday, three nights since he'd been rescued by Hiro, and he was in a hospital.

"Hey sleepy." Hiro said quietly from his bedside.

Shuichi gave him a bleary glance, his eyelids to heavy to stay open for very long.

"I can't keep my… my eyes… open." He drawled.

"Still tired?" Hiro's incredulous tone was too loud.

"Hmm..."

A thrumming 'beep' sounded in the background as Hiro walked to the adjoining bathroom and retrieved a paper cup full of clear and cold water. Shuichi turned his head, it rolled lazily to the right and he peered at the machine monitoring his heart rate.

"What's all this for?" He asked, flapping his wrist in the general direction of the beeping machine.

"They're keeping close tabs on your health." He sipped at his tap water thoughtfully. "Dehydration, fatigue, hallucinations, pneumonia, and the beginnings of an infection in your stomach. They've got you so pumped with antibiotics I didn't expect you to wake up for a week." Hiro's joke was half-hearted.

"What's wrong with you?" Shuichi asked; the syllables trailing into hisses as his tongue gave out on trying to form words.

"I'm just worried about you, Shu. How on earth did you let yourself get so sick?"

He chose not to answer, instead closing his eyes and trying to get the beat of his heart out of his head, but there was nothing else to listen to. He hummed the tune of the Rage Beat slowly, but the rhythm was wrong and he lost his place.

"Shuichi?"

"Mmm?"

"Why are you so sick?" Hiro asked again.

"I dunno." Shuichi opened his eyes again. "Lost control."

"Control of what?"

"Everything."

Hiro stared at his band-mate, at his best friend, slipping into unconsciousness yet again. He didn't understand what could have happened, how it could have come to this. Infections, dehydration, hallucinations? When he'd retrieved Shuichi from outside Eiri's apartment, weak, feverish, coughing up small chunks of bile and water, he'd very nearly gone to kill the famous novelist that moment. The man had no business putting a kid as sick as Shuichi in the streets during the coldest fall on record.

But Shuichi had whimpered, his voice racked with pain, and all thoughts of revenge had left Hiro's mind for a moment.

Now they were back. Full force.

Unless there was a very good reason – and really, what kind of reason could there possibly be for something this hideous to occur – he was going to go after Eiri Yuki, and make sure this never happened again.

Shuichi, even with all of his faults was to perfect, to innocent, to be treated like this.

Hiro clenched his fists as he watched Shuichi snooze, and went to the front desk of the hospital trying to find the nurse.

"I think Mr. Shindo's medication is a bit off. He woke up, but was so delirious he couldn't really form cohesive sentences."

A nurse grabbed the chart and took a careful look at it. "I'm sorry sir; he'll have to be on that dosage for a while. His infections could spread and the antibiotics have to be able to do their job."

"Okay. About how long will it take for him to be weaned onto a lower dosage?"

"I'd say another week."

"Great." Hiro ran a hand through his long hair, perhaps for the hundredth time that hour. "Thanks."

The nurse gave him a kindly look. "Did he say what happened?"

Hiro stared at her. "Lost control." He quoted cynically.

She nodded. "It happens."

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen his type. The teenager living on drive and adrenaline and fame. There's a lot of support that goes into taking care of your body well under any circumstances, but being in the public light makes it that much harder to do by yourself."

"He's not by himself anymore."

"He's got you?" She guessed.

"Now he does."

"That's good." She smiled, so kind and friendly that his heart felt lighter, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift a fraction, and he smiled back. "If you'll excuse me," she said, "I've got some patients to look after. Take care."

"You too."

Hiro trudged back to the hospital bedside, trying to piece together his thoughts. Somehow he was going to need to explain to K why Shuichi was in the hospital, he was going to have to get Sakano to hold off on their recording sessions, get everyone to reschedule bookings. Probably for a long time, and nobody was going to be happy about it.

Hiro took his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and thumbed through the list of numbers until he met the one he needed.

"Seguchi Tohma, please." He said when a polite woman inquired to whom he would like to speak with.

"One moment sir."

There was a half of a ring and then Seguchi picked up. "NG Studios. How may I help you?"

"Mr. Seguchi," Hiro said quietly. "This is Nakano Hiro from Bad Luck."

"Good afternoon Mr. Nakano."

"Afternoon. I need to have a few favors placed for Bad Luck."

"Oh?" Tohma sounded relatively shocked that a band member was asking for a favor. His tone was intrigued, rather than patronizing, so Hiro continued.

"Shindo Shuichi is having a medical crisis at the moment. Bad Luck's due back at the studio this coming Monday and Shuichi is not going to be able to make it. Probably not for a few weeks."

"I've heard tell from Eiri that Shuichi was sick. I wasn't informed that it was so grave."

Hiro gritted his teeth at mention of the bastard novelist. "Eiri Yuki is the cause of Shuichi's condition, sir."

"Is that so?" Tohma was beginning to sound a tad overprotective.

Hiro knew he was treading dangerous ground. He listed off Shuichi's medical problems. "He called me, from outside of Mr. Yuki's apartment. He was barely able to speak, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a very loose tank top when I got there. He was too weak to even wrap the jacket in his arms around himself. All I got out of him was Mr. Yuki's name."

"What did you do with him?"

"At first? Just took him to my apartment." Hiro replied, realizing that his hands were clenched so tight that he was scratching his palms with his nails. "But then he started to get feverish and was sleeping continuously. That's when I brought him to the hospital."

There was a long pause in the conversation. Hiro thought that perhaps his phone had dropped the call, but then there was an irritated sigh, made all the more aggravated by the crackle of the phone line.

"I will clear Bad Luck's schedule for three weeks. If more time is needed, I'll be sure to adjust as necessary. Thank you for the information Mr. Nakano."

He hung up.

Hiro held the phone to his ear for a second, not sure how he'd managed to do it, but thankful that Seguchi had understood.

Shuichi stirred and Hiro shoved the phone back in his pocket, hopeful that maybe he'd be able to gather more information from his friend.

* * *

There was a polite knock on his front door, the quiet rat-a-tat-tat that was so annoying to him because he knew who it was.

Seguchi.

Eiri almost ignored it, but thought better of it immediately. That man would have no problem standing there for an hour, at least, knocking every few minutes, maybe even calling until he answered. The irritation would just grow until he caved, and then he'd be in an even worse mood than before…

He saved the sparsely used document glaring at him from his computer and stretched as he made his way slowly down the hall. Another knock punctuated the quiet air and he opened the door with a disgruntled expression.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I think we need to talk." Seguchi said coldly, pulling his gloves from his hands as he pushed his way inside. "I received a distressing phone call this afternoon."

Eiri gave a noncommittal grunt. "Why do I care?"

"It was from Mr. Nakano of Bad Luck. I'm sure you two are familiar."

Eiri's eyes narrowed, but he didn't answer. Seguchi nodded as if in response to a question and smiled bitterly at his gloves. He sat, legs crossed, without being offered and patted a space of the couch next to him. Eiri paused for a moment, and then sat, finding no good reason to refuse.

"What I'm about to discuss comes from me, not as your brother-in-law, but as the President of NG Studios," Seguchi began. "What have you done to my singer, Shuichi Shindo?"

Eiri smirked for a split second. "I kicked him out. Haven't you been begging me to do so for years?"

Seguchi's answering smile was callous. "As you're family, yes."

"So now what? You're number one band is down for the count and your coming after me?"

"Exactly."

Eiri's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Mr. Shindo is in the hospital." Tohma elaborated.

"So? He lands himself in the hospital all the goddamn time." Eiri's uncaring tone was just slightly off, on edge, possibly even worried.

"Dehydration, hallucinations, infections, just to name a few of his problems." Seguchi examined a soft, pale cuticle as he spoke. "He's so incapacitated that he has to be in the hospital for at least another week, maybe more. Then there's the recuperation time at home."

"What's you're point, Seguchi?"

"I want to know what you did to him. You're losing me thousands of dollars when Bad Luck is out of commission. If it goes on too long I could be losing millions."

"I didn't do anything. He let himself get in trouble."

"As his partner it's your responsibility to care for him when he's too hurt to do it himself."

Eiri shot his brother-in-law at hateful glance. "I'm not his partner."

"What do you call it then, Eiri? Lover, roommate, fuck buddy? He's something to you. You've let him live here for two years. Either way you should help the people you care about when they're in so much pain."

Eiri sat back, fumbling in his pockets for a cigarette and lighter. "Who asked you?"

"Nobody asked me. I made it my business when things got out of hand."

"He'll be up on his feet in no time."

"I hope so, for your sake and his. If he's not back to one hundred percent soon, we _will _have another chat." Seguchi promised.

"Is that a threat, brother?" Eiri asked, sarcasm dripping from the nickname.

Sarcasm was not lost on Tohma. He shook his head sharply. "Just a warning." He replied, placing his hands back in his gloves as he stood to leave. Just as he reached the door, he called back to Eiri in a chillingly quiet voice.

"There was a point in time that you loved him, you told me so yourself. You're breaking that boy, Eiri, and when he's moved on and you realize that he might just have been what you needed in your life, you'll be very sorry."

"Fuck off."

Tohma nodded to himself and left quietly, the door latching shut behind him.

* * *

**End-3**

**A/N:** Just wanted to say thank you to all the reviewers. Your comments really pull me through when I feel writers block sneeking it's way into my stories. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	4. Who Am I?

**A/N:** Just a quickie update. Thank you so much for all the feedback and advice from my reviewers! I've been moving, so this might be the last update for a while!

**

* * *

Forgotten**  
Chapter Three: Who Am I?

* * *

Shuichi did not know that he was Shuichi.

His head felt crowded, thoughts swimming lethargically past his brain, past his consciousness. It was warm where he was. It was quiet and peaceful.

But there were blips in his peace. There were tiny shocking moments of pain, small words being whispered around him, names he didn't know, and concepts he didn't understand. Moments of awareness where he was alone in a small room that smelled of sanitation and organized chaos. Moments of darkness with dreams of a man he didn't recognize.

And then there was pain in his arm and he woke up for the last time, coming fully out of his stupor with shocking abruptness. A young woman was taking wires and tape from his arm, extracting the fluid that was being pumped into him.

Everything was a blur. He couldn't remember why he was here or what had happened. He couldn't remember names or faces. There was a man in the doorway; he had very long reddish brown hair and dark eyes that seemed relieved to see him, happy in some way he didn't understand.

There were words, buzzing through the air, passing from the man to the woman, laughter from her, a smile from him.

He began to cry. Unable to understand. Why was he here in this small, brightly lit room, machines around him, oxygen being pumped through his nose? The woman at his side bent to face him, a small understanding smile on her face. Her voice was reaching him but he couldn't grasp words she said.

Then the man, taking his hand and looking at him with those dark eyes, full of worry and confusion.

The tears burned. The world seemed large and full of disorganized thoughts.

The haze was lifting. He caught small snippets of words, small concepts that his brain processed slowly. He cried harder.

The faces of the man and women pulled away. Whispers not meant for him were dancing on the outer range of his consciousness. He tried to take in small things. He was sitting. A bed. A machine. Person, male, female. He understood and recognized these things. His body, his hair, feeling, smell, taste, sight. But where was he? Why couldn't he understand words? Why couldn't he hear them clearly, like they were being played on fast forward through his mind?

He held his hands over his ears. Too much. Too much.

The man was back, right next to him, in his range of vision, in his range of hearing. He seemed to speak slower, making sure he caught all the words.

"Shuichi, what's wrong?"

Simple question. What's wrong? But what was a Shuichi?

He looked around, whimpering, bewildered, overcome.

He tried to speak. To voice the things he needed to say to understand what was happening to him. The syllables came out garbled, mashed together by his unpracticed tongue, his untrained ear. It took a few moments, a lot of stuttering to get his point across.

Dawning comprehension and then abrupt sadness came into the man's eyes as he spoke.

"Who… Am… I?"

Shuichi did not know that he was Shuichi.

* * *

**End-4**


	5. Huntington's Disease

**Forgotten  
**Chapter Four: Huntington's Disease

* * *

Hiro was shaking, he couldn't help it. His fists were clenched so tightly he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to relax them again. His palms tingled, he felt like he wanted to hit something. No, not something. Someone.

"What the hell did you do?"

The barren eyes of Yuki Eiri, stared him down. "What are you dong here?" He said coldly.

"That's not an answer." Hiro replied. "I asked you what the hell you did."

"What the hell did I do to _what_, Nakano Hiroshi?"

"To Shuichi."

An exasperated sigh. "What's wrong with him now? If you're talking about his recent trip to the hospital, Seguchi beat you to the punch. I already got chewed out for that one."

Hiro could feel his eyes twitching madly, the tremors growing steadily more violent. "Did you beat him? Hit in the head one time to many? Did he fall down the stairs, or did you push him? What the fuck did you do to my best friend?" His voice was raising octaves by the end of the sentence, and the stoic author before him raised one pale eyebrow curiously.

"What are you talking about?"

That did it.

Hiro shoved his shoulder into the door, simultaneously letting himself into the house and knocking Eiri to the floor. He was on top of the author in a second, ready to beat him unconscious. His first punch met its mark, but then he felt his body flying in midair and suddenly meet with the hardwood floor, the air whooshing out of his lungs from impact as a hand found his throat.

"You _don't_ lay a fucking hand on me, Nakano, not without consequences." The cold eyes were above him, daring him to try to hit him again. "Now, calmly, you're going to tell me what's got you so damn worked up."

The tight grip on his airway was released, sputtering and chocking, Hiro gasped for air before he could speak. "Shuichi… can't… remember…" His voice was ragged and he coughed hard.

"Can't remember what?" There was confusion and apprehension dawning in Eiri's eyes.

It took five deep breathes before Hiro could respond with any clarity. "Anything."

The golden eyes widened in astonishment and comprehension. And then…

… He was gone.

Hiro sat up slowly feeling his ribs for tender spots, wondering if he'd broken anything in the squabble. Then he stared at the open door, at the evidence of Eiri's hurried departure, the coat rack knocked to the ground, the tiny crystal bowl that usually held two sets of keys lying in a thousand tiny pieces on the floor, Shuichi's keys doused in the shining glass. A roaring engine sounded outside and squealed away in almost three seconds flat.

Hiro put a hand to his forehead, massaging a tiny pulse that was slowly turning into a headache. When cold water streaked down his face, he realized he was crying.

Eiri had obviously been as confused as he was when he'd heard. And if Eiri didn't do it…

What had happened to Shuichi?

* * *

"Huntington's Disease."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"It's a relatively unheard of genetic disorder, sometimes called HD. It can cause memory loss. This is one of the most severe cases I think I've ever seen."

Tohma Seguchi stared at the friendly young nurse, speaking to him with all the calm and assurance of a mother explaining something unpleasant to a child. He shook his head.

The nurse's polite smile was slightly sad, somehow. When she spoke she was nearly whispering. "HD is usually a little more controlled. I've never seen such an extreme bout of amnesia from it. We're going to have to do some more tests. CAT scans, and possibly an MRI to rule out an even more threatening cause."

Tohma shook his head again. "Were there symptoms, something major we could have missed that might have helped prevent this?"

The nurse seemed just slightly uncomfortable. "Well we're not quite sure if that's the exact disease... it's the only solution we can come up with. As I said, we need to do more tests." She paused and looked down at the chart. "The most obvious symptoms would mostly include jerky or uncontrolled movements. Sometimes stiffness and slow movement can occur instead, or in later stages. It can be easily passed off as a general lack of coordination. As the disease progresses, Mr. Shindo may have difficulty with functions that require muscle control. The doctors are mostly worried about his ability to eat; he's already so thin…"

Tohma shook his head again. He'd never felt such a lack of control in his surroundings. "I'd like a moment, please."

"Certainly. Would you like the room kept private?"

"Yes." Tohma said, then paused and thought better of it. "If Nakano Hiroshi arrives, allow him in, but no other visitors."

"Of course."

The nurse left, the soft sound of her shoes clacking against the tile floors echoing in the room as the door shut. Tohma sank into a chair, one thought running endlessly through his mind.

_What am I going to do?_

He stared quietly at Shuichi's sleeping form. The sedative they had given him was weighing down on him. Tohma could see the look of exhaustion on the pink haired teenager's face. Too much sleep, too much stress. Too much, too much.

He put his head in his hands. The soft feel of the gloves rubbing against his skin was calming in some odd way. He thought of the company, of the millions he could be losing, of the band and the wellbeing of his talented cousin, of his brother-in-law, to fucking wrapped up in his own world to realize the life of the only person who had ever loved him was sick. Of Nakano, worrying himself into starvation and insomnia, at this rate heading for a hospital bed himself.

He thought of Shuichi. The promise, the talent, the soul, the vivacious spirit, all broken and vanished in an instant because of some freak disease. The purple eyes brimming with life, the perfect smile, full of reckless child-like abandon.

Would anyone ever get to see those things again? Would Shuichi ever be Shuichi?

From beyond the thick wood of the door, Tohma heard the crashes and shouts of angry people, of families hearing the worst kind of news and blaming the doctors who gave it. He felt irrational irritation, couldn't they have some consideration for those who were deep in thought, worried for the outcome of their own loved ones.

The crashing was growing louder. It sounded like glass was being broken, gurneys possibly toppling to the floor, the squeak of shoes on the polished floors and raised voices. Tohma stood and went to the small window with a view to the hallway and lobby room. His eyes met with the scuffle and narrowed instantly, anger boiling past its normal point.

Tohma Seguchi, for the second time in his life, was outraged to the point of becoming homicidal.

Shouts of "Let go of me!" and "You can't go back there!" echoed in the halls. It was a tall blond causing all the raucous, fighting three young doctors as they tried to force him to calm down. Someone was screaming for security, patients were huddling against walls and in the corners of the room in fear.

Determined to end the fighting, he strode into the waiting room, the wrath of countless minutes worrying and agonizing fueling his movements. In ten quick steps he was there, one hand clenched into a fist, the other mindlessly fiddling within his coat pocket.

"Uesugi Eiri." He said coldly, clearly. His voice was a whisper among the shouts, but his intended target stopped and turned, and immediately the noise died down.

"Seguchi."

"I've left instructions that you not be allowed to see Shuichi. I suggest you leave before you are forcibly removed."

"You'd let them do that, to your own family? Damn Tohma, I thought I knew everything you were capable of."

"You don't want to know what I'm capable of." Tohma's angelic smile sent a chill through the room.

There was a split-second pause"I want to see my lover."

"Two days ago you were loathe to even call him that. Suddenly he's so important to you. Why?"

"Nakano said he couldn't remember anything."

"So your concern lies where? In your need to see if he's okay, or in your need to see if he's really forgotten you so that you can finally hole up in your study and wallow in your self-hate in peace?"

Eiri growled, taking two small steps toward his brother-in-law. The doctors moved to grab him again, but Tohma raised a hand to stop them. "I think we both know that Shuichi would be better off not seeing you. He's asleep right now, as it is, so your efforts would be wasted."

"I'll stay with him till he wakes up then." Eiri's low voice rumbled in the small space between him and his brother-in-law.

"The hospitals visiting hours are over at nine. It's nearly eight. I doubt Shuichi will wake before you would have to leave."

"I don't want him to be alone." There was something new catching at Eiri's voice as he spoke, his eyes searching the endless see of doors, trying to see which one might contain his lover.

"Between Mr. Nakano and myself, Shuichi hasn't been alone from six a.m. until nine p.m. every night since he was checked in. I assure you, he is not without care."

"Tohma…" Eiri said quietly.

"Leave. Now."

"Dammit, no! I'm practically his fucking family, closer to him than you. You can't keep me away from him."

A nurse came into the room just then, the same one who Tohma had spoken to minutes ago.

"Mr. Seguchi," she said quietly. "Mr. Shindo is awake."

_Damn it!"_ Tohma thought, cringing as Eiri's eyes lit with newly kindled hope. _You're timing couldn't have been worse!_ He silently berated.

"Thank you, miss."

"He's speaking, Mr. Seguchi."

Tohma whirled. "What?"

"He still doesn't remember anything," she replied quietly, taking a few steps back as she pointed to Shuichi's room. "But he's regained the ability to speak. Fluidly."

Tohma left his brother-in-law behind, barking commands for the docotrs and security officers to keep Eiri where he was as he quickly strode to Shuichi's room. There he sat, staring at his surroundings with wide-eyed innocence and some small stretch of fear in his eyes. He caught sight of Tohma and gasped.

"Sir, please, can you tell me what I'm doing here?"

Tohma took a few quiet steps forward, concern filling his eyes. "Shuichi, do you remember me?"

"I'm sorry, no. Should I?"

Tohma ignored the question and asked another. "Do you know where you are?"

"In a hospital." He said it like a question.

"Do you remember anything?"

"Just a lot of pain… and a man… I can't remember." He looked genuinely apologetic as he said, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay Shuichi. Tell me, what did this man look like?"

"Is that my name? Shuichi? Everyone keeps saying it like it's my name."

Tohma smiled sadly. "Yes. That's your name. Shindo Shuichi."

"Shindo… Shuichi?" The singer giggled. "Alright then."

"Shuichi, this man, what did he look like?"

Shuichi's eyes got distant, misting over with tears. He put a hand to the droplets spilling over and looked at them, surprised, it seemed, by their existence. "There are two men. One of them was smiling and talking to me, and he had very long reddish brown hair. Then the other… he was so much colder and he was distant, like a nightmare. He looked like—"

There was a crash outside the door, and the shouting resumed.

Suddenly the door banged open, hinges shrieking in protest. Eiri stood in the doorway, panting, shaking two doctors off of him as he stared at Shuichi's shocked face.

"We're sorry Mr. Seguchi. We tried to stop—" one of the doctors began. Shuichi raised a hand to silence him.

"He looked like him." Shuichi said, pointing at Eiri.

Tohma put his face in his hands and silently screamed.

* * *

**End**-5


	6. A Reason Why

**Forgotten**  
Chapter Five: A Reason Why

* * *

"Nothing is working." Tohma whispered; his mouth hiding behind a gloved hand.

"Shuichi's strong. We'll find something, a cure, a treatment, and he'll get through it." Hiro replied evenly, watching his best friends sleeping form from behind the thick plated glass. He ran a hand through his hair, the long pieces matted and tangling beneath his fingers.

Tohma sighed for the thousandth time that day. "Eiri is becoming… uncontrollable. I won't be able to keep him away for long."

Hiro's look hardened. "I don't trust him."

"You still think he had a hand in this." Tohma remarked, not asking, but telling. "Shuichi's ailment is purely genetic, and so far no tests have hinted to a darker reason behind his memory loss. I agree that Eiri has some more ruthless tendencies when it comes to the care and wellbeing of those around him, but I don't see him behind the illness."

"I still don't like it. If you just could have seen Shuichi when I picked him up outside the apartment…" Hiro shuddered and grew quiet.

"That is one sight I'm glad I didn't have the chance to see."

There was a moment of silence between the two men. The world around them moved on, but for this moment, for these last few days, for the next few weeks even, it felt like there would be nothing for them but worry and questions that would most likely never be answered.

"Why?" Hiro asked suddenly.

"Why what?" Tohma asked, eyes never diverting from Shuichi.

"Why are you so concerned for him?" Hiro jerked his chin at the sleeping pop-star. "I understand your business interests in his wellbeing, but your worry seems to stem deeper than a financial connection."

"As far as I am concerned, Shuichi has become family. I make it a point to protect my family with every resource available to me." Tohma spared a glance into Hiro's startled eyes. "If you knew Eiri the way I have come to know him, you would perhaps understand that Shuichi is something more than a live-in toy. He is more than Eiri will ever let on. Shuichi is something special in the eyes of my brother-in-law."

"A lover." Hiro said simply.

Tohma shook his head. "More than that, I think. Though Eiri can often be cruel and ruthless, he loves Shuichi with every fiber of his being. The two of them together, it's as though Eiri's entire world orbits around Shuichi. Yes, he acts so nonchalant, so very uncaring, but when Shuichi is about to bound mindlessly into something stupid Eiri is always watching, and always ready to pick up the pieces. Though whether he decides to help, or to keep up appearances, is a different matter entirely."

Hiro was quiet for a moment. "You miss nothing, do you?"

"It's my job to notice everything, to calculate, to plan. If I didn't, I wouldn't be the President of a company such as NG."

Hiro laughed, though it wasn't truly funny. It felt good to laugh, to feel the rise and fall of his chest as he chuckled. It was like breathing deeply for the first time in his life. "He missed a big opportunity to help this time." He said darkly.

"Indeed he did. Perhaps he will learn from it." Tohma replied, a touch of protectiveness reaching his voice.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, visiting hours are almost over," a rake thin and balding doctor told them politely.

"Thank you." Tohma replied absently.

"It must be hard." Hiro said as soon as the doctor had left, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Eiri is also family. Keeping him so out of the loop must be difficult for you."

"I try to think of what I'm doing as protecting Eiri too."

"By keeping him away?"

"By not letting him see an empty shell of the one person he has learned to love."

Hiro nodded. "Good night Mr. Seguchi."

"Good night Mr. Nakano." Tohma said quietly.

* * *

"How is Eiri?" Mika asked as she lay in bed beside her husband.

"Upset. Angry. Worried." Tohma replied, clicking documents open on his laptop. "I'm almost certain he will hate me for a long time after this, if he doesn't already."

Mike bit her lip. "And Shuichi?"

"There's been no change." Replied her husband shortly.

Silence filled the bedroom. Tohma continued his clicking, typing at random moments as he filed accounting claims and saved documents.

"What could have caused this?" Mika wondered aloud, snuggling deep within her blankets.

"No one knows." Tohma's heavy sigh was full of exhaustion. "The disease is apparently genetic. I'm contemplating contacting his family, asking about their medical history, but the panic it might stir with his parents could leak to the media and I'm desperately trying to keep this under wraps for now."

"If it will help Shuichi…"

"Then it would be worth it. For now, though, I don't want to focus on that. I'm going to finish these documents and sleep."

"Good night then, Tohma."

Tohma looked at his wife, her eyes full of questions. He smiled. "Sleep well, love."

* * *

Hiro couldn't sleep. It was perhaps the fourth night, no, fifth night of insomnia. His head and body ached for sleep, but the butterflies in his stomach, the questions left unanswered, the hopes and dreams that were slowly crumbling beneath his feet left his brain full of nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes he could only see Shuichi lying helpless and frail in a hospital bed, alone right at this moment, perhaps even awake and frightened.

He tossed and turned, trying to find a cool place to lay his head, a soft place to rest his bones. There was no relief.

As he watched the dawn slowly creep up on him, he thought of Seguchi Tohma and the conversation they'd had yesterday evening.

Despite his best efforts to understand, something still seemed off with Yuki Eiri and his so-called lover. The connection Shuichi had felt with Yuki, Hiro had never questioned, but the connection Eiri had with Shuichi… he had no idea if it even existed.

_Shuichi is something special in the eyes of my brother-in-law_, Tohma had said. And maybe that was true, but for right now Hiro could think of nothing but the last look in Shuichi's eyes before he'd lost his memories, of the last nights where he'd lain feverish and sick, screaming for salvation.

Had he been screaming for Eiri, or had he been screaming to keep him away?

The night sky was turning an electric blue outside his window, the streetlamps hazy from dew, and as Hiro stared at his ceiling, he felt anguish wash over him. What if the last thing Shuichi had ever felt when he was still normal, was pain? What if the last thing Hiro would ever see were Shuichi's eyes full of fear, sore and sick in his bed, fighting to ward off hallucinations of a man who didn't love him.

There lay the question. Did Yuki Eiri love Shuichi, or not?

Hiro rose that dawn with new determination in his eyes.

* * *

The doctors had escorted him to a room, but it wasn't Shuichi's. Yuki Eiri watched their faces intently. They were calm and collected men, used to following orders and making sure those orders were carried out to the letter. They asked him to sit, but didn't shut the door.

With practiced ease he pulled a cigarette and tiny silver lighter from his pocket. Almost about to put the flame to the end of his cigarette, he was interrupted by a quiet voice in the doorway.

"Smoking isn't allowed inside hospitals."

Eiri closed the lighter and put the cigarette down, glancing coldly at Nakano Hiroshi, the picture of ease with his arms crossed as he leaned against the door frame.

"You think I don't know that?"

"You were just about to light up."

"Your point?"

Hiro narrowed his eyes and uncrossed his arms as he took four small steps forward.

"We need to talk."

Eiri smirked. "I'm flattered, but I'm kind of with someone right now." He joked.

Hiro glared. "With who?" He growled angrily. "Because you sure as hell don't act like you're with Shuichi. The way you treated him when he was sick, before he had to come to this fucking hospital? Ruthless. Disgusting. You either have no respect for humans as a whole, or you just don't fucking care about him."

Eiri place the cigarette back in his pocket. "I don't much feel like having a discussion with you. The last one we had ended rather abruptly in a fist fight and my chin still hurts."

"I'm not throwing any punches."

"Then you better hope you don't piss me off, because I make no such promises."

Each man glared across the room at the other. Tension mounted for a split second before it broke with a single sentence.

"Do you love him."

"What?" Eiri snapped.

"It's a simple question. Do you love him?" Hiro's dark eyes were ruthlessly cold and accusing. Eiri's glare smoldered in the space between them.

"Shuichi? Sure." He replied, tapping his fingers against his thigh, desperately craving a cigarette now.

"Sure." Hiro said disbelievingly. "Sure? I ask you if you love him, and all you can say is _sure_?"

Eiri stared out the window for a moment, not wanting to meet Hiro's eyes. "What else do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say the words 'love' and 'Shuichi' in one goddamn sentence. I want you to admit that you love him. I want you to confess something that shouldn't be hard to confess. Shuichi is a special kid, you and I both know he deserves better than you, but it's you he wants and like it or not, you're stuck with him."

Eiri shot a cutting look at the guitarist. "I don't have to be. Shuichi is only living with me because I—"

"Because you let him?" Hiro finished sarcastically. "Face it, you couldn't get rid of him even if you wanted to. And if Shuichi left for the rest of his life and you never saw him again, or if he fell in love with someone else, there will always be a part of him that loves you more than life itself. If you called, if you needed him, he would come. No questions asked."

"That's his problem. I don't have time to deal with…" Eiri stopped himself in mid-sentence, not sure why he was trying to defend himself to some rocker punk. He gathered himself and stood, striding past Hiro with a defiant stare.

"Shuichi _will_love someone else. If I don't deserve him, then maybe I shouldn't stick around. You should know, though, that I will fight to see him well again. After that, for his well-being and your piece of mind, I'm gone."

Hiro growled. "Then what's the fucking point?!" His volume had risen several notches past acceptable. Doctors and nurses and patients stared at him for a moment of pure quiet, and then turned back to their tasks, the cacophony of sounds rising to a roar.

"The point is to make sure he's okay."

"Once he's okay, you know he'll want you again."

"Like I said, I'll be gone."

"Why?"

Eiri turned his back on the long haired guitarist, all emotion now gone from his voice.

"You're right. I don't deserve him."

* * *

**End**-6


	7. Home

**Forgotten  
**Chapter Six: Home

* * *

He knew that he was called Shindo Shuichi. He knew that his best friend was Nakano Hiroshi and that Seguchi Tohma was his boss. He knew that he was an up-and-coming J-Pop star that was well publicized, well liked, and well on his way to becoming eternally famous.

He knew that he had a disease, but they wouldn't tell him all the dirty details. They wouldn't tell him if it would kill him, if there was a cure. They kept telling him that more tests would tell them, more tests would give them the answer. He saw the lies in their eyes.

He knew that his disease was causing memory loss. He knew that he had a sister and a mother that were worried and a father that either didn't know his son was sick, or didn't give a flying fuck. He knew that he was expected to stay in the hospital for a long time and that his rooms would be kept private. He suspected that it was going to get worse, and almost nobody expected him to get better.

Shuichi knew all these things, was beginning to understand what life was like again, but nobody would answer him when he asked about the blond man from his nightmares. The man who had burst unexpectedly into his hospital room with two doctors trying desperately to hold him back, fighting for some reason to see… _him._

It made no sense. At first he thought it was an obsessed fan he couldn't remember, but he changed his mind when he thought about it. An obsessed fan would have been screaming mad, raving to see their idol in the hospital. Or star struck. But this man had been neither, and he had looked at Shuichi with fear and despair and hope and disappointment all wrapped into one.

Shuichi thought he remembered him. But it was a far-off memory. More like a dream or a hallucination, a fake impression of the real and perfect thing.

He sighed and stared dejectedly out the window. In the last week of life that he actually remembered, some things seemed so unfair. Why was he so sick, possibly even fatally ill, with a chance to live life that might be taken from him? So what if he got out of the hospital and eventually learned about his world, so what if he could return to some semblance of normal life. What if he did it all, and was suddenly expected to die?

Some tears escaped his eyes. What if he didn't die, but couldn't remember his childhood, his education, his family? What was the point of his learning life over if he started from scratch as an adult?

He rubbed his eyes and tried to smile for himself, just to feel better. These weren't things to think about now, what he wanted to think about now was just living. For some reason this is what life had handed to him and it was what he was going to have to deal with. By Buddha, he would do it and do it with a damn smile on his face.

He sighed and lay back against the pillows of his hospital bed.

"Shuichi?"

He jumped about a foot and looked to his right. Hiro was standing in the doorway, smiling just a little. "Get up and get dressed."

"Wha—why?" The tiny teen asked, befuddled and bemused by the sudden command.

"We're going home." Hiro said, grinning even more widely.

Shuichi's eyes immediately filled with tears. _Home_. The word was like pure heaven, a second of bliss in his personal hell. He jumped from his bed and gathered is clothing so quickly he almost forgot his underwear. Then he stopped just as suddenly as he had started and looked at Hiro.

"How?"

Hiro took a few quick steps forward and ruffled the pink mop of hair on his beloved friends head. "The doctors think you're good to go."

Shuichi's ear-to-ear grin was so bright it lit the entire hospital, nay, the entire city with its glow. There were tears in his eyes, his cheeks as bright pink as his hair. Suddenly, he gripped Hiro around the middle in a bone-crunching hug, screaming thank you so fast it sounded like bird calls instead of words.

Like a dancer, he bounded from the room into the adjoining private bathroom, speedily dressing.

Hiro, left dazed behind him, lifted a hand to his face and massaged his eyes for a moment, trying to get himself under control. The doctors, in fact, did not think that Shuichi was good to go. They were giving him a month. Two tops. They said he should go home until he was to sick to care for anymore, and then Hiro was to bring him back here, to die in peace. The thought made him nauseous beyond all belief.

"Let him live a normal life," they had said this morning to a shocked Seguchi Tohma and himself. "After he can't move for himself, after he can't eat for himself, bring him back and we'll make him comfortable." Then the doctor had put his hand on Hiro's shoulder, sympathetic, like he knew how he felt. Hiro's palms had burned with the desire to smack the doctor that instant.

How could they say they would make him comfortable? How could they assume his best friends last moments were going to be peaceful? Shuichi was going to die before he ever saw Christmas.

With a triumphant grin, Shuichi popped out of the bathroom like his old self, grinning and hyper and happy to be alive, all previous thoughts of melancholy forgotten, believing that he would be okay.

Hiro put a protective arm around his friends shoulder and led him to the front desk for check-out.

* * *

He was like a child, Hiro thought. Asking questions, wanting to know how the world worked and why it was the way it was. Shuichi bounced down the streets in a baseball cap and sunglasses, twirling around and humming to himself. Hiro followed silently a few feet behind.

"Hiro?" Shuichi asked, turning suddenly to face the guitarist with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Hmm?"

"How long have we been friends?"

"Since birth."

Shuichi's answering grin was so accepting, so happy that it made Hiro want to burst into tears all over again. How could someone so perfect, so kind, be taken from this earth so early?

"That's a long time." Shuichi replied, turning back to dance down the sidewalk. Hiro caught these moments, moments he was sure even Shuichi wasn't aware of. His friends motions would jerk, sporadic, irrational movements that were to sharp for Shuichi's fluid steps. Symptoms. Signs. Sickness.

"Shu," Hiro called out as they neared an intersection.

"Yeah?"

"Turn left at the next light."

Shuichi's answering nod was all the response he got. Hiro stuck his hands in his pockets and watched as Shuichi gave a ridiculous little twirl, grinning stupidly all the while. At the next street corner, he turned and winked at Hiro, then took off down the street.

Hiro jogged a little to catch up, finding his pink-haired idiot leaning against a brick wall, legs crossed at the ankles as he stared up at the perfect blue sky. As Hiro approached, he heard a familiar melody. Staring at the impossible as Shuichi hummed, he nearly took his friend straight back to the hospital.

Shuichi was whistling the tune to the _Rage Beat_.

Hiro tried very hard to keep his nerves down, his voice steady as he said, "Shuichi, where did you hear that song?"

"I don't know," Shuichi said. "It's just been stuck in my head all day."

"Wow," Hiro whispered to himself.

"What?" Shuichi asked. "Is it something I should know about? Is it something from before… before I got sick?"

Hiro stared at his friends eyes, hidden behind the dark sunglasses, and could just imagine the pressing curiosity, the dire need to know about his forgotten life. For a second he wondered if he shouldn't be saying this, if he should be keeping the information away from Shuichi like it was the plague. But nobody had forbidden him to talk about the life before the sickness, and he felt like Shuichi should know.

"Yeah, Shu. You _wrote_ that song."

Shuichi's mouth dropped open a half inch, shock radiating from his perfectly still posture. "I did?"

"You did. Do you remember it at all from before?"

Shuichi shook his head. "It's just a tune I had in my head."

Hiro nodded and took his friend by the shoulder. Steering him ten feet down the road, they came in front of Hiro's tiny apartment building, housing Hiro's even tinier apartment. "Welcome home." Hiro said, knowing it wasn't quite Shuichi's real home. But his real home wasn't good anymore.

Shuichi gasped, putting a hand to his mouth. "Wow." He said, and then giggled.

"What?" Hiro asked grouchily, hoping Shuichi wasn't about to diss his new crib.

"I'm home," Shuichi said quietly. "It feels so good, you have no idea."

"Well, let's go check it out." Hiro said, handing Shuichi the key. Shuichi's eyes lit up behind his glasses and he ran for the front door like a child running to get in line at a carnival.

Too Shuichi's untrained eyes, the apartment was a palace. Hiro watched from the kitchen as Shuichi darted from room to room, discovering, investigating, looking for all the world like a puppy brought into a brand new home.

Shuichi stopped his exploration a short half hour later, and as he and Hiro sat down to lunch, he smiled and tears filled his eyes again.

"Hiroshi, I know I can't remember, but I feel like I've known you for my whole life."

"Good." Hiro replied past a bite of his sandwich. "Tomorrow, we'll see about getting you into work, just to check it out."

Shuichi's eyes lit up like beacons before he burst into joyful tears.

**End**-7

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks so much everyone for your support and reviews! Please let me know what you think. Quickie update for the week.


	8. First Meeting

**Forgotten**  
Chapter Seven: First Meeting

* * *

Watching him bound around the studio with enthusiastic squeals and bright purple eyes was somehow soothing for Hiro. It was like the old times. Shuichi had been introduced to Mr. K, Sakano, and Fujisaki, but was kept away from the general population in the rest of NG. Tohma had left strict orders to keep Shuichi's memory loss under wraps, the last thing they needed was a rival band discovering Shuichi's illness and leaking to the media.

That day Shuichi reacquainted himself with the studio, with the microphones and instruments; he even made up a song on the spot to sing for his small audience. He was given his first pocky stick since his homecoming and immediately took to the treat just as he had before.

Hiro couldn't help but feel like everything was going to be okay now. Shuichi looked so healthy, the doctors had to be wrong about his sickness, and he was so familiar with his surroundings, it was as though he had never left.

At lunch time Hiro took Shuichi to a tiny café across the street. They sat in a booth beside the large window and ate sandwiches while Shuichi hummed and stared at the business district of Tokyo. NG was easily the tallest building on that block, it towered in front of the sun, glistening silver and metallic. As Shuichi gnawed on a chip he gasped, and coughed as a crumb lodged itself in the most uncomfortable place it could possibly have landed in his throat.

"What's up Shu?" Hiro asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

"Man!" Shuichi gasped, still coughing as he mindlessly grabbed for his glass of water and choked some down to dislodge the offensive crumb. "That man!" he screeched, pointing across the street to NG's front doors.

Hiro looked and inhaled sharply, also choking on his food. He pounded his chest and reached for his water as he tried to remember how to breathe normally.

The tourist family next to them stared in horror. Was this some sort of Japanese ritual, to cough and choke and scream in their native tongue as they ate? The family got up and left promptly, the mother quickly ushering her children away from the insane men.

"Yuki…" Hiro gasped, unthinking. He bent closer to the window, watching as the blond man entered NG. There was no mistaking that light hair, nor the Mercedes that was illegally parked in front of the building. Hiro staring, blinking rapidly, confused and undecided about what to do, the lunch hour was almost over and they had to get back. Shuichi was going to sit in on some actual work being done, they had a recording from before his hospital visit, Shuichi singing his newest song _Forgotten_ and Hiro and Fujisaki were going to record the musical background to lay over it and complete at least one song for the new CD.

"Yuki," he heard Shuichi say in a whisper. Damn it! Hiro turned, about to tell Shuichi some sort of lie, trying to cover his tracks and keep his friend away from Yuki Eiri.

Shuichi had beaten him to the punch. The pink-haired singer was already up and half way to the door, jacket on and food abandoned. Hiro quickly threw down some money to pay for the meal and ran after his friend. By the time he made it out the front door of the café, Shuichi was running across the busy intersection with reckless abandon. Cars were honking, stomping on their breaks and swerving to avoid him. Hiro jabbed the walk butting, hopping up and down as he prayed for the light to change quickly. Shuichi was almost to the building, headed directly for the mysterious man he wasn't supposed to know anything about.

Shuichi, meanwhile, was running after the blond man. He had just stepped into an elevator and the doors had closed as Shuichi ran after them. He smacked the wall with his fist when he missed it, and then watched where the elevator headed. Top floor.

He smashed the 'up' button repeatedly, determined to reach the top floor too.

* * *

"Welcome Eiri. I'm glad you came." Tohma said politely as he gestured to a large armchair for Eiri's use.

"What ever," Eiri replied, taking a seat. "What's this 'emergency' you were raving about?"

Tohma's look paled and hardened. He came around the front of his desk and perched himself on it, facing Eiri with a grave expression on his face. "I received a call from the hospital earlier this morning."

Eiri looked up sharply. "And?"

"They've released Shuichi, for the time being. The doctors are expecting his disease to overtake his life in a matter of weeks. When he's become to sick to function, they'll bring him back and—"

Eiri dropped his sunglasses. He'd been holding them, meaning to put them away. They fell to the floor with a clatter he hardly noticed. "Where's he staying?" He asked, cutting Tohma off.

"With Mr. Nakano," Tohma replied patiently. "They also discussed with me the results of Shuichi's X-rays. They've found the true cause of his sickness."

Eiri's mouth popped open as he waited for his brother-in-law to elaborate.

"He does not have Huntington's Disease, as we originally thought, but a large tumor in the brain. It's overtaking the pieces that control memory and muscle control. Shuichi will die, and he will die very soon."

Eiri's eyelids pricked uncomfortably. He lifted a hand to his eyes to wipe away the tears, his body shook. His fingers contorted. Anger coursed in his blood stream and he stood and turned to the wall and punched it with as much strength as he could manage. There was a crack in the paint and a dent in the wall when he pulled away and collapsed. Tohma was at his side, massaging his back gently and speaking in a calm voice.

"I'm telling you this because I believe that your depravation has lasted long enough. You need to see Shuichi, and you need to do it now, while you've still got the chance."

"Dying…" Eiri said quietly. He tried to imagine his life now. Silence. Quiet. Solitude. He would never see Shuichi's purple eyes and abominably pink hair, never hear the obnoxious laugh or watch the random dances across the living room floor. He would never see Shuichi's eyes alight with passion, or fill with tears, or crinkle with joy, or narrow in anger. Shuichi's skin would be cold, his eyes would be closed, and that perfect body and soul would be buried in the ground for the rest of eternity.

Eiri's heart stopped, one second, two seconds, three, and then spluttered back to life as he began to cry freely for the first time in over two years.

Tohma put an arm around his shoulders. "The doctors are discussing treatment options with me in an hour. I figured you would want to be here to help."

"Doesn't… doesn't _he_ get a choice in his future?" Eiri couldn't bring himself to say the name.

"That's one of the options I have discussed earlier with all the doctors. Keeping everything from him so he can live the next few weeks relatively care free. We decided from the beginning it was in his best interests."

Eiri got to his feet, holding his head as it slowly developed a splitting headache and he continued to cry, unable to control himself. "I can't do this." He whispered.

Tohma folded his arms across his chest and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Eiri, I need to know everything. Can you tell me what happened from the day that you kicked him out of the apartment to now?"

Eiri flopped into a chair, his chest heaving, he felt as though he couldn't breathe. Just as he had regained his composure and began to speak, the large oak double doors of Tohma's office crashed open and there stood Shuichi, panting, with Hiro running up the stairs behind him, screaming for Shuichi to come back.

Eiri's eyes widened and his heart beat accelerated as he laid eyes on his lover. Somehow the reality of Shuichi's unavoidable death seemed so much more near at hand with the boy standing there in front of him. He collapsed into fresh sobs and stood blindly, rushing to hold his lover close.

"Shuichi," he whispered into the mop of pink hair.

The singer was baffled by this man, the one who had fought his way into his hospital room and was now crushing him in a hug and crying. Somehow the embrace felt… right… and Shuichi was certain that he had known this man very well in his forgotten life. He placed his arms around the tall blonde's waist and hugged him back, inhaling deeply the scent of cigarettes and cologne and a spicy soap.

"Mr. Seguchi!" Hiro panted as he came rushing into the room, holding his knees. "I'm sorry sir! I had to climb the stairs half of the way to catch up… I tried Mr. Seguchi…"

Tohma held up a hand politely to silence the guitarist and then crooked a finger, motioning for him to come inside. "Close the door behind you please, Mr. Nakano."

The order was carried out and Eiri looked up from his embrace to face Nakano Hiroshi's murderous stare and Tohma's overwhelmed expression. Shuichi was holding him still, which was just fine by him, thank you very much. He rubbed the layered hair, running his fingers through it and sniffing the strawberry scent of his shampoo. His other hand massaged circles into Shuichi's thin back, feeling the bumps of his spine. With a pang, Eiri realized that his hand, tangled into Shuichi's hair was mere inches from a cancer that was slowly killing him. The thought made him lose his breath, and he wrapped his arms around Shuichi once again, unwilling to let go.

"Now," Tohma Seguchi said to the party assembled. "I think it's time that everyone comes clean and we all discuss the very immediate and dangerous future."

Hiro looked mortified, Eiri was trying his best to ignore the outside world and focus solely on Shuichi, and Shuichi himself looked confused and frightened. Instinctively he clutched Eiri closer.

"But Mr. Seguchi—" Hiro began. He was cut off once again by Tohma's upraised hand.

"Shuichi's fate is not for us to decide, and I regret that I even tried. This concerns him, and Eiri, more than the rest of us." Tohma motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. Hiro sat in one, Eiri; still doing his best to ignore everything and everyone around him, did nothing.

"Eiri, have a seat please." Tohma commanded in a soft voice. Eiri gave him a hateful glare, but complied, then seeing that there were no other chairs for Shuichi, tugged the confused teen into his lap and clamped his arms around his waist firmly with a decisive nod. Hiro looked fit to jump up and stab Eiri through the head with whatever was near at hand.

"Shuichi," Tohma began. "We have not been all together honest with you. First of all, then man you are sitting on is Ues—" when Eiri's glare became increasingly intense at the mention of his given name, Tohma stopped himself and backtracked. "Yuki Eiri. You have been living with him for the better part of two years, and you are lovers."

Shuichi became instantly stiff and very still. Hiro looked over at his friend with worried eyes. "Shui—?"

Eiri's growl cut him off. Tohma stared at them all until there was quiet.

"Shuichi, you're memory loss is very serious. It is expected that in three, perhaps four weeks time…you will die."

Shuichi, already frightened before, became positively petrified. He clenched his fists, his face became pale and he began to sweat, a thin sheen of perspiration that gave him a sick, shiny hue to his skin. Eiri held him tighter.

"What's wrong with me?" He asked in a shaky whisper.

"You have a tumor." Tohma replied. Hiro gasped, the news was as new to him as it had been to Eiri moments ago. "It's growing in your brain. But there are options, treatments, which we are going to discuss in-" a quick glance at his watch, "-a half hours time. I'm expecting a call from the doctors at the hospital and they will tell us everything we can possibly do to help you."

Shuichi's eyes were filling with tears. His hands grasped at Eiri's subconsciously, and Eiri held them tightly, feeling the sticky beads of perspiration on his hand.

"Yu…ki?" Shuichi said quietly. Eiri nodded and gave the teens hand a squeeze. "Did you love me?"

The question was unexpected. Out of everything he had just heard, Tohma and Hiro had expected more curiosity about the illness rather than the past. Nonetheless, they held their silence as they waited for the answer. Eiri clutched Shuichi to him, holding the singers head against his shoulder.

"Yes. Every single day since the moment I met you," Yuki said quietly. "And I still love you. No matter what."

Not a soul in that room remained with dry eyes after that.

* * *

**End**-8


	9. Options

**A/N:** I just want to thank all of my reviewers who have stuck with me since day one, and the new ones who continue to reassure me that I'm taking this in the right direction. I hope you enjoy this next enstallment.

**Forgotten**  
Chapter 8: Options

* * *

"Good afternoon, doctors." Seguchi said quietly into the phone. "There's been a change in plans." A pause. "Shuichi has been told of his illness and the possible outcomes, he has also been reunited with Eiri. I would like your permission to place this call on speaker so everyone involved can hear what you have to say."

There was another pause as Seguchi Tohma listened and then he smiled and pushed a button on the phone base and placed the mouthpiece back into its cradle.

"Good afternoon, everyone," said a calm, assuring voice on the other line, marred only by the static of the phone. "My name is Doctor Tabemono and I have with me the surgical resident Doctor Kuroi."

"Afternoon," said another, deeper voice.

"Doctors, we have with us today Shindo Shuichi, Yuki Eiri, and Nakano Hiro." Tohma said as he took a seat in his overstuffed chair behind the desk.

Shuichi and Hiro both mumbled a hello. Eiri kept his face buried in Shuichi's hair and said nothing.

"Well, Mr. Shindo, we've had quite a scare with you," Dr. Tabemono chuckled. "When you first came to the hospital, the nurses and doctors all assumed your problem was a stress related illness, that perhaps you hadn't been taking the best care of yourself. You came into the hospital with hallucinating, your body attacked by infections and dehydration, just to name a few problems."

"We discovered your memory loss a little over a week later," interjected Dr. Kuroi. "The initial diagnosis was Huntington's Disease, a rare genetic disorder that causes amnesia, loss of muscle control, and early death. Upon further testing we discovered the actual cause of your memory loss was due to a tumor growing in your brain."

Tohma had placed his gloved hands in front of his mouth, resting his mouth against them. He moved to interrupt, "Any questions Shuichi?"

"No." Responded the singer quietly.

"So what are our options with this illness?" Hiro asked in a slightly rough voice.

"Well," sighed Kuroi. "Without the tumors immediate removal, Shuichi will die in a matter of weeks, maybe even days. The question is: will the surgery prove successful?"

"Our hesitation lies in the placement of the tumor. Its removal could result in a permanent vegetative state. Worst case scenario might even be death if there is internal bleeding in the skull after removal, or if the brain shuts down from the stress of surgery. Best case scenario, we get the tumor out and Shuichi returns home with his memory nearly regained."

"You mean I won't ever have all my memories back, even if the surgery goes perfectly?" Shuichi said in a hoarse whisper, his eyes bugging from their sockets as he stared at the phone.

"Not all of them, no, some of your more… outstanding memories might prevail. The memories of your schooling might stay with you, math, science, factual information that has been ingrained into your memory since childhood. For instance, when you first came too in the hospital you could hardly speak and could not understand any form of language. When you awoke a second time, you had regained your ability to speak and understand, but had lost all other memory previous to that time," Kuroi hesitated, and then began again reluctantly. "Perhaps with very strong memory chargers, things that will remind you of your past, sights, smells, tastes, sounds, any sensations that are sharp enough to bring a memory back from the depths of your mind."

Shuichi felt the tears on his face but made no move to remove them. Eiri had remained silent until then, but whispered into Shuichi's hair, "It's still a chance."

"Better than nothing, Shu." Hiro said quietly.

"Indeed," Tohma agreed. "What is the success rate for such a surgery?"

"None of our patients in the last seven years have died during this surgery. About forty percent regain some of their memory. Twenty percent come out with only the ability to speak and understand language but have to relearn such things as writing, and most do not recognize even their closest family members. The remaining forty percent remain in vegetative state."

"That's a pretty vague margin." Tohma said doubtfully. "But it's better than the absolute certainty that we have now of Shuichi dying."

"I'll do it, if there's a chance that I might remember Yuki." Shuichi said quietly. Eiri's eyes widened behind the curtain of bubble-gum pink hair, his fingers clutched tighter to Shuichi. "When can we schedule the surgery?"

There was a rustling sound on the other line and a pause before Dr. Tabemono replied, "As soon as Friday afternoon."

"Day after tomorrow…" Hiro said hoarsely.

"I'll do it." Shuichi said firmly.

"Very well then, I suppose we have our answer." Tohma said in a finalizing tone. "I'll set up the minor details at a later time."

"Take care, Shuichi." Kuroi said in farewell.

"We'll see you on Friday." Tabemono added.

"Have a good evening, gentlemen." Tohma said politely before hanging up the phone.

There was a long silence between the four men in the office. Despite the hectic events of that afternoon, no more than an hour had passed since Eiri's arrival at NG. Hiro was the first to break it.

"Do you want to move back in with Yuki, Shu?"

Shuichi looked bewildered. "I'm… not sure…"

Eiri removed himself from Shuichi's hair and gave Nakano a pointed glance. "Of course he'll move back in with me," then he seemed to catch himself. "That is, if you want to." He added tenderly.

"Hiro?" Shuichi asked, his voice rising, panicky.

"It won't hurt my feelings." Hiro replied, understanding Shuichi's hesitation easily.

"But you've done so much for me; I don't want to ditch you, what kind of thanks would that be?"

"It's okay, anything to make you feel better." Hiro replied sincerely. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to go back. K and Suguru will be wondering where I've got to."

Tohma nodded. "Please let them know everything that's happened. If they have any questions they're welcome to ask me."

"Sure." Hiro retreated with a wave. "You can come over any time and get your stuff, Shuichi." He said as he left.

"Thank you, Hiro." Shuichi said softly.

"No problem." The door shut quietly behind him.

"Well," Tohma said as he stood, hands on his desk, palms down. "It seems you two have a lot of catching up to do. I'm sure you have quite a few questions, Shuichi."

The singer stood from Eiri's lap and zipped up his jacket a little self consciously. Eiri stood as well, looking as stoic and unemotional as ever. He smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt and nodded once to Tohma in farewell.

"Thank you… for everything Mr. Seguchi." Shuichi said with a bow.

"You're quite welcome Shuichi." Tohma replied. "I'll see you on Friday."

Shuichi and Eiri both nodded and retreated out the grand oak doors of Seguchi's office. There was quiet tension between them, neither knowing what to say in this situation.

As they coasted downwards in the elevator Eiri took Shuichi's hand in his, a public display of affection he would never have done a mere month before. Of course, a month before the act would have sent Shuichi into hysterics, and now he simply blushed and looked at his feet.

"Would you like to stay at work, or have you had enough adventure for one day?"

Shuichi had nearly forgotten about the work day, about K and Fujisaki and Mr. Sakano and the recording session they had booked to show Shuichi some of his songs, some of his arrangements, some of his life before the illness.

"I think I'm done," he said calmly. "I'd like to collect my stuff from Hiro's and go…" his sentenced trailed off; he was unsure how to finish it.

"Home." Eiri offered as the elevator opened to NG's bottom floor. Shuichi beamed.

"How long have I lived with you?" Shuichi asked as they made their way forward.

The question was so simple, yet the answer was so complicated. Technically, in Eiri's eyes, Shuichi had been a guest in his home. But given the length of time Shuichi spent, it should have rightfully been called his home. Then again, Shuichi was also kicked out of the apartment on a fairly regular basis, spending half of his time crashing at Hiro's or in a hotel when it was too late to intrude on the guitarist. Eiri opted for the simple answer.

"Since a couple weeks after we met."

"Wow, so soon…" Shuichi breathed.

"You were… persistent."

"I'm sorry."

Eiri stared after the rock star as he retreated to the studio to let Hiro know he was going to get his things and where he was going to hide the spare key. It was just like Shuichi to feel apologetic for something so trivial (and something he couldn't even remember to boot).

"Do you need directions to Hiro's?" Shuichi asked suddenly as they stepped into the glaring sunlight. Eiri found himself slightly annoyed as he realized he'd left his sunglasses on the floor of Seguchi's office. He'd have to get those back somehow.

"I know the way," he answered, almost adding in reflexively "I've been there enough times to drag your sorry butt back home" but caught himself last second. He opened Shuichi's door for him, took the parking ticket off his windshield, gave it a glance and shoved it his pocket, and got in. With a purr the Mercedes came to life and Eiri smoothly drove it into the traffic, weaving deftly around slower vehicles.

"It feels weird, you must know so much about me that I don't even know about myself."

"I probably know more than you ever did."

Shuichi smiled. "I wish I could say the same about you."

"You knew a lot about me Shuichi. You knew things only my father and sister and brother-in-law know about."

"Will you tell me about them?"

Eiri felt his chest tighten, was this going to be another roller coaster ride of emotion, letting Shuichi into his past _again_? The first time had been hard enough. He'd nearly killed himself in New York.

"Maybe later." He said noncommittally. _Maybe when hell freezes over…_

They arrived at Hiro's apartment a short time later, Shuichi bounded from the car as Eiri lay back and relaxed. Such a crazy afternoon, a routine meeting with his brother-in-law turned not-so-routine. The information he'd processed in an hour was falling in on him, making him feel like he was burdened with the weight of a thousand secrets he wasn't supposed to know.

The possibility of Shuichi dying, the surgery, the tumor, the illness. Where had it all come from, just a million little things diverging on their lives all at once? And Shuichi seemed to be digesting it all just fine, taking things in stride, keeping calm and collected, questioning very little and asking for help as he came across obstacles he couldn't cross, questions he couldn't answer. Like a warrior, fighting for a cause he didn't quite understand but knew was right.

Shuichi came hurdling back in less than ten minutes, carrying a small bag of belongings with him. His smile was radiant as he slid into the car and Eiri could help but smirk back.

But now they new Shuichi wasn't going to die, there was even a good chance he would regain some of his sharper memories. What things would come back to him, the day they met? The first kiss they'd shared? His childhood? His friends, his family, his job, his music? What if nothing came back at all?

Suddenly Eiri remembered the promise he'd made Nakano in the hospital.

"_Shuichi _will_ love someone else. If I don't deserve him, then maybe I shouldn't stick around. You should know, though, that I will fight to see him well again. After that, for his wellbeing and your piece of mind, I'm gone."_

"_Then what's the fucking point?!" _

"_The point is to make sure he's okay."_

"_Once he's okay, you know he'll want you again."_

"_Like I said, I'll be gone."_

"_Why?"_

"_You're right. I don't deserve him."_

Was he willing to stick to that, to see Shuichi well again and then leave so that his beloved pink-haired singer would never be hurt by his selfish, bastard lover?

The thought was almost painful. With Shuichi's imminent doom at hand, Eiri's emotions had been thrown into sharp relief. He realized that everything he felt for the singer, even the anger and annoyance and worry was all wrapped up in a neat little package with a label that said 'love'. Eiri loved Shuichi, though voicing that word was difficult for him.

He didn't know if he could ever get over that idea.

Didn't Shuichi deserve someone better? Someone who could openly say I love you and mean it?

The answer was yes. But that brought forth a new question.

Was Eiri man enough to leave and give Shuichi a chance with his real Mister Right?

* * *

End-9


	10. Slumber

**Forgotten**  
Chapter 9: Slumber

* * *

Fall was slipping easily into winter, the abnormally chilly November floating into a strangely frigid December. Eiri sat in the dark living room, the muted television glowing a bright blue as he smoked his fifth cigarette of the last two hours. Sleep evaded him. It was Thursday night, the surgery would begin in less than twenty-four hours, and this could be the last time he saw Shuichi alive. It could get worse, it could get better.

He didn't hear the soft padded footsteps as Shuichi drifted in like the falling snow outside. The covers from the bedroom were draped around him giving him the overall appearance of a large black cocoon. Eiri's eyes darted to him in a moment of shock, and then away, back to the commercial for life insurance that was bouncing around on the screen.

"What are you doing up?" He asked; voice gravelly from the tar and nicotine in his lungs.

"I could ask you the same question," Shuichi responded quietly.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Neither can I."

Eiri looked at him again, the normally round and emotional face seeming gaunt and sick in the blue light. He shifted and patted the exposed piece of leather next to him for Shuichi to sit. The singer shuffled forward on silent feet, unwrapping his blanket and rewrapping it to include Yuki's shoulders as he planted himself next to his forgotten lover.

"Talk to me about it," Eiri offered quietly.

"I'm dying," Shuichi said easily, the calm and reassurance in the two simple words making Eiri jump. "I don't want to spend my last hours sleeping."

There was a strong silence, the room was filled with it and immense as it was, the silence made the walls seem like they were closing in. "Talk to me about it." Shuichi echoed after a moment of the intense quiet.

"You're dying," Eiri replied in a shaking voice, his entire body constricting as he said the words aloud. "I don't want to spend the last hours I may have with you sleeping."

Shuichi's smile was sad, eyes brimming with tears. "I could survive."

"You could," Eiri agreed. "I'm praying with every fiber of my being that you do, but even a one percent chance of you dying on that table is a one percent chance that I don't want to take. We're talking a forty percent chance of vegetative state."

"It's better than knowing for certain that I will die."

Eiri wrapped his left arm around Shuichi's small body, his nose automatically burrowing into the pink hair, searching for the smell of strawberries. He inhaled deeply, trying to imprint the scent into his memory, just in case, and for one insane moment contemplated gathering up all of the strawberry shampoo in Shuichi's brand in the world and hoarding it all for himself. He shook his head of the thought, blaming his weird actions on sleep and pulled away.

"You're strong."

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Shuichi asked hopefully, staring at Eiri with those huge purple eyes, wishful and wanting.

"I'll be at your side every moment you need me." He promised automatically, and then regretted the promise almost immediately. There was still that little choice he hadn't made yet, could he possibly stay with Shuichi for his own selfish purposes when Shuichi was better off without him? He wasn't even sure of his answer, and he'd been pondering it for the last two days.

"Lets do something." Shuichi said suddenly, leaping from the couch and his warm cocoon into the cold apartment. "We can't just sit here for the next few hours doing nothing, lets do something spectacular! Lets do something fun!"

Eiri's wide eyes followed Shuichi's dancing movements with surprise. The boundless energy hadn't been lost in the forgotten memories. Eiri stood and carefully folded the blanket, then set it on the couch and turned toward Shuichi.

"What do you want to do?" He asked, willing to give the dying singer anything in the world.

Shuichi's lips puckered, his brow furrowed as he thought. Then he snapped his fingers. "Let's go to a club!"

Oops. Not that. "You're sick, Shuichi." Eiri replied. "Do you really think it's a good idea to go off and party?"

"I'll just dance and I swear I won't drink! I can't drink anyway because it's against the rules…black coffee and water only, remember? For the surgery…" Shuichi's look grew distant and wistful. "Think of it, dancing, and lights, and music, and noise. It's the perfect activity to get our minds off of all this insanity."

Eiri rubbed his face, feeling the stubble on his cheek and the grease in his hair. "Let me take a fast shower first." He said, giving into his lovers desires.

Shuichi jumped into the air with a resounding "YES!" and then raced into the bedroom. By the time Eiri had caught up to him, the singers round butt was bobbing to-and-fro from the depths of the closet and random articles of clothing were flying out of the bottomless pit that was Shuichi's half of the closet. Eiri ignored his gleeful cries as the singer picked out the perfect outfit and retreated to the heat and sanctuary of a shower.

The feeling of clean hair was refreshing, the heated water unknotting his back as he lathered his spicy body soap and turned himself into a walking ball of soapsuds. The smell was soothing, normal, real, but a pink bottle of shampoo just inches from his right hand was calling his name. He wanted to smell that smell on his hair, have it plug up his nostrils with its cloying sweetness. He washed the spicy soap away and took the half empty bottle in his hands and popped the top, an immediate scent that he had come to know as Shuichi filled the room. He poured a small amount into his hands and lathered it into his hair.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing with the stream of water from the shower head.

After a quick shave, teeth brushed, and hair specifically dried and gelled to his liking, Eiri finally stumbled out of the bathroom, clutching a towel securely to his waist. Shuichi had either fallen inside the black hole of his closet or disappeared into a different part of the house.

Eiri picked out an outfit from his closet, a simple pair of black slacks and a blue silk shirt. As he did up the last button on his shirt Shuichi danced back into the bedroom, his fluid steps graceful. At first Eiri didn't pay attention to Shuichi's dress, then it caught his eye, and he openly gaped.

Shuichi's jeans were a dark blue, tight and low slung. Under a black tank top with the words party animal in pink he wore a long sleeved fishnet top. His pink hair was messy and fell into his huge purple eyes. He smiled, glorious, radiant, all traces of his sickness disappearing behind his happiness.

"You look… wonderful." Eiri said quietly. The true world that came to mind would have been more like "sexy," or "hotter than hell".

"Thank you," he replied just as quietly. "You look amazing too. Are you ready?"

"Are you?"

Shuichi nodded, his smile growing wider. "Let's go have some fun."

* * *

In all reality, Eiri hated dance clubs. The loud music that was more noise with a beat than any real artistic expression, the cheap drinks that flowed at all hours of the night and day, whorish women who would fall, drunk and stupid over any man they thought was movie-star gorgeous in their alcohol induced stupor. It was surreal and stupid, no point to any of it, but it was Shuichi's element, and it was Shuichi's desire to come here and stop thinking about the next day and the rest of his life and the differences between life and death.

So he came, though he intensely disliked it. He came and followed and watched, drinking scotch on the rocks as Shuichi immersed himself in crowds, his lithe body dancing and moving in rhythm. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead, the lights made him appear slick and fantastical, unreal. Eiri watched, Shuichi laughing and screaming with the music, hanging himself on the brink of insanity.

And as he watched he thought. He thought about his life, about the life before his Tokyo apartment and his author status as the number one romance novelist in Japan. About his life after New York. About his life now.

Twenty two years old he had been on the rise, a star, famous. He'd also been dying, slowly killing himself with cigarettes and beer and refusing to sleep. He'd been living in darkness. He'd been living in fear.

Then Shuichi glided through. He was energy and devotion and love and stubbornness. Stubbornness Eiri desperately needed in his life to balance out getting everything he wanted, and needing someone to finally say no. Shuichi was beauty. He was life.

Twenty four years old and his entire life had changed. He was no longer dying, he was growing. Shuichi's energy and love feeding him, nourishing him back to life, Shuichi's stubbornness teaching him how to live again, how to be again, how to stop taking, start giving.

"Yuki!" Shuichi called as he stumbled forward, his eyes alighted with the joy of a child on Christmas morning. "Yuki, come dance with me!"

"Shuichi… I don't…"

Those eyes, so hopeful. Eiri desperately wanted to refuse, but he stood slowly and followed Shuichi into the middle of the dance floor. The music grew louder the closer they got, voices shouting, pulses rising. Shuichi danced close, his small body pressing against Eiri's in all the right places. The moved together, one body, until Eiri felt his senses go numb and his world consisted of nothing but Shuichi. The alcohol in his system was a minor buzz compared to the euphoria he felt being close to his lover once again.

Shuichi's arms reached up behind him, locking around Eiri's neck as his jumped and writhed delightfully in Eiri's arms.

Eiri stayed on the floor for one full hour, holding Shuichi, moving with him, praying this wasn't the last time they'd be together in this way. Would he ever see Shuichi again? Would he ever be the same?

* * *

The surgery was scheduled for two in the afternoon. They returned to the apartment at three in the morning, covered in cold sweat, their clothes bathed in the scents of a club, the booze, the smoke, the fear. Shuichi was laughing sporadically, giggling with the happiness of a small child. He spun around on the balls of his feet, once, twice, three times until he found himself, dizzy, standing in the middle of the living room.

"You should get some sleep, Shuichi." Eiri said as he set down his keys and wallet and phone.

"Yuki?"

"Hmm?" He looked up to see Shuichi's dark eyes watching him.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Yuki had set Shuichi up in the guest room. The couch seemed so impersonal and cruel, too much of a piece of the past, and Yuki didn't want to force Shuichi to sleep with him fearing that it would be too much of a change, to fast of a pace to set in this new chapter of their relationship.

He watched Shuichi just as Shuichi watched him. Their expressions did not change, the silence did not falter. It was a full five minutes before Yuki spoke.

"Why?"

A pause, a blush in his cheeks. "I want to be close to you."

Indecision, and then, "…Alright."

Shuichi's answering smile was small, embarrassed and delighted all at once. Yuki retrieved the covers from the couch and brought them back into the bedroom. He made the bed, smoothed the sheets, fluffed the pillows, obsessively adjusting and readjusting everything.

"If it's alright, I'd like to take a shower." Shuichi said in a small voice.

"Of course it's alright. You don't have to ask Shuichi."

As the singer retreated to the bathroom, Yuki looked at the bed he'd obsessively tinkered with. It now sat perfect, designer magazine picture-perfect in fact, but he could smell the stale odor of cigarettes from the sheets and couldn't remember the last time he'd changed them. He ripped all the sheets and pillows off and took them to the laundry room, shoved them in a corner to be dealt with later and got clean sheets out of the linen closet. As he pulled and tucked and primped and plucked his heart stuttered sporadically, nerves overtaking him, hands shaking, eyes darting.

Eiri stopped and stared at the bed. It was flawless, not even a single wrinkle marred it. He brushed at non-existent dust on the pillowcases, then took his small bottle of cologne and gave it two small spurts onto the sheets.

His work was complete and yet Shuichi was still in the shower. He sighed and went to his dresser, retrieving a clean pair of boxer shorts and a pair of his nicest silk pajamas. He hadn't worn them in almost a year, preferring either to sleep with boxers, or with his clothes on as he sat in his office chair hunched over his laptop. The latter was his least favorite, but it happened the most often.

Carefully he undressed, and just as carefully he put them on. The fabric was smooth and relaxing, but strange and foreign at the same time. He went to the kitchen and got a glass of ice water, then returned and sat on the edge of the bed, holding it and sipping from it every so often. The sheets became creased because of his indentation in the bed, so he set down his glass and righted them.

The water shut off in the bathroom. Eiri froze.

One minute, two minutes, five minutes passed. There was the sound of running water from the tap as Shuichi brushed his teeth. Eiri ran his tongue over his own teeth, wishing he had thought to do the same thing. He hurried to the guest bathroom, put a glob of toothpaste directly on his tongue, and scrubbed relentlessly for half a minute, spit, swished, and hurried back, standing awkwardly in his own bedroom and wondering why, dear god, had he turned into such a sap for this kid?

And the obsessive compulsive disorder? He shook his head, blaming it on stress and lack of sleep and… god damn it… _love_.

Shuichi emerged in a puff of mist from the showers heat. He was holding his towel tucked underneath his arms, it reached to about mid-thigh. He smiled, his damp hair sticking to his cheeks and covering most of the blush in them. Eiri smiled back.

"I had fun today, Yuki." Shuichi said in an angelic voice. "You're an amazing person, to stay with me through all of this."

Eiri's heart tore in half as the reality of the situation crushed down on him. So many things Shuichi was no longer aware of. _This_ Shuichi had only seen the very best in Eiri. He hadn't caught him in a bad mood, hadn't seen him raving drunk, hadn't heard him swear and curse, hadn't been there when he was writing and lost in his own dark place. He'd seen a sweet man, a kind and gentle version that Eiri was not accustomed to. This Shuichi was with a fake, a different man than the real thing. Eiri wasn't sure he could adapting to being and feeling this way forever.

"Get some sleep," Eiri said quietly. "Tomorrow will be hard enough with out you going insane from sleep deprivation."

Shuichi laughed quietly and dug through his things to find a clean pair of underwear. He put them on, Eiri looking away politely when the towel dropped. It was so odd to be prudish around Shuichi, to not watch and be appreciative of all the small boy's assets. He moved by the bed, heart thrumming faster than a hummingbirds wings.

Shuichi moved beside him, taking his hand and laying his head on his shoulder. "I'll come back. I'll come back and then this will all be over. We can be together again."

"Okay, Shuichi. Okay."

Eiri lay down and Shuichi lay beside him, curling against him, finding a niche in his arms. They fell asleep that way, perfect, dreaming of a better future than the one chosen for them now.

As Eiri drifted into unconsciousness, he thought to himself _I love you_…

**End**-10

A/N: Thanks again to all my reviewers, new and old, for your comments and critiques. I would also like to apologize for the long break between updates! I'll try to stay on top of it.

Ja ne!


	11. Waiting

**Forgotten**  
Chapter 10: Waiting

* * *

There were doctors and nurses and surgeons and consults, therapists and psychologists, a team it seemed like, all devoted to helping Shuichi. They surrounded him, deserted him, chattering and jabbering in doctor jargon no one understood. Eiri sat in a corner, watching, observing, within an arms length of Shuichi if he was ever needed. Tohma came and went as frequently as the doctors did, asking questions and making orders and asking more questions, his hand in every small detail concerning the surgery. Shuichi lay quietly in the large white bed, his tiny body clad in a paper hospital gown.

Two hours and counting.

They looked at the X-rays again and again, holding them up to the light and pointing things out with their pens. Eiri felt like he was stuck in the middle of a bad soap opera. What's the diagnosis doctor?

"Yuki?" Shuichi said quietly, looking away towards the generic watercolor curtains around his bed.

"Hmm?"

"I enjoyed last night. A lot."

Eiri didn't quite know what to do with that. He paused and watched Shuichi as he remained in his reverie, lost in his thoughts. "I did too." He responded finally, his voice very deep in the quiet room.

"Shuichi, we're ready." Tohma interrupted, sticking his head into the room from the doorway. Shuichi turned and nodded; his face as transparent and unworried as a trusting child.

Tohma entered and two nurses followed, carrying some bottles and a bag of what looked like disposable razors. Eiri's eyes grew wide and his heart began to thud sporadically. Shuichi's unemotional face turned horrified in a second and he looked to Eiri for comfort.

"We'll need to remove your hair for the surgery, Mr. Shindo." One of the nurses said, laying down the items in her hands and putting on a pair of gloves.

Tohma, sensing the overwhelmed panic, headed off any unneeded stresses efficiently. "We'll get you some amazing wigs Shuichi. You'll be able to change your hair color daily if you want. Once your hair grows out, we'll put it back right."

Shuichi gulped, his throat constricting and releasing in a tight motion. He nodded.

Eiri stood, grasping Shuichi's hand as the nurses sat him up and began cutting off most of his hair in long locks with a pair of silver scissors, as close to the scalp as they could manage. Then they applied some chemical-smelling shaving cream and took the razors to the rest. In a matter of minutes, Shuichi was bald.

He had cried the whole time, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried hard not to shudder and shake while the blades were put to his scalp. Eiri almost lost feeling in his hands, Shuichi was gripping them so hard, but he didn't care one bit. He was horrified by the sight of Shuichi's one shocking physical trait suddenly being stripped away. All of Shuichi's pizzazz, his soul, seemed to be falling away one lock of hair at a time. What made him unique on the outside was gone, what made him beautiful on the inside fading fast with the weight of knowledge and responsibility.

It almost wasn't Shuichi in there.

When they finished the doctors came and began wheeling a crying Shuichi and his thousands of machines and wires to the hallway. They approached the OR doors, this was where they had to separate, and Eiri felt his heart gripped with fear. He laid a hand against Shuichi's wet cheeks, rubbing away the tears, melting in the soft feel of his skin. The doctors were filling out charts.

"Are you ready Mr. Shindo?" asked one doctor kindly as he prepared to push the bed forward.

Shuichi reached one arm up to stroke Eiri's fingers.

"Yuki, I just wanted to tell you that no matter what happens… I love you."

Eiri's jaw slackened, his head spun. All at once Shuichi was rambling, explaining things that shouldn't have had to have been explained, and babbling in a way only Shuichi could, hiccups of sobs interrupting the speech.

"I know I've known you for a lot longer than I can remember and to me, it seems like I've only just met you two days ago, but everything you say, everything you do, the way we connect feels right and I can honestly understand now why I loved you before. So I just wanted to let you hear it one more time, just to let you know that the part of me that you remember is still here and he still… I still… love you."

"Here we go," the doctors said, pulling Shuichi away before Eiri had a chance to respond.

"I'll be right here!" Eiri called as the doctors wheeled him out of sight.

After a few moments, Tohma came up behind him. "Eiri?" he said quietly, placing one hand on his shoulder. "Let's go back to the waiting room."

He felt frozen in time, frozen in place, lost and empty and confused.

Then he nodded, and shuffled after his brother-in-law on heavy feet.

Hiro arrived an hour later, asking questions and pacing with fresh nerves. Eiri remained motionless, bent over in his chair, face in his hands. His thoughts wandered back to the beginning of this mess, back to the night he had left and returned to find Shuichi unconscious on his floor. His eyes pricked uncomfortably with unwanted tears and Nakano and Seguchi conversed in quiet tones, leaving him to his misery and worry.

* * *

_The brat was in his bed, in his home, in his fucking head. He felt clouded by it, filled with it, sick with the overweight feeling of never being alone. His writing was controlled by this pink haired specimen sleeping beside him. His life was wrapped around this boy's fingers. It angered him. It numbed him. It stupefied him. It enraged him._

_He detached himself from the boy's arms and the sheets of his warm bed to face the chill of the frigid fall night. The kid didn't even stir._

_He wandered past his study, his spare bedroom, his kitchen, his living room. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and meandered his way to the balcony, his head and body filled with thoughts he needed to release before they exploded, things he needed to let float away on the chilly night air, to forget in the haze of smoke. _

_He lit up, smoked two, three, four, five, six, on and on until the pack was gone. He had wasted an entire hour, smoked a whole pack. He felt nauseous and his chest hurt. He wanted to rip it open and let out the smoke, dig out the tar, return his lungs to a healthy pink, heal his burned throat and tongue. His thoughts remained tormented by this place, this house he couldn't truthfully call home._

_Suddenly seized by anger and pain he returned to the house and as quietly as he could manage, threw his things into a suitcase, all his clothes, his laptop and files, his toothbrush. He dressed in a quick pair of slacks and a button up Armani shirt he'd left hanging in the laundry room to be steam ironed. He threw on his shoes, gathered his keys and phone and jacket and left, not knowing or caring where he was going._

_It had been about midnight when he had left. Deprived of sleep he had to stop at a motel along the way and he crashed for a quick power nap, then scavenged for food at a restaurant down the street, caught another two hours of sleep, and left again at two in the afternoon._

_He didn't really know where he was when Tohma called at three thirty. He ignored the phone and kept driving, not caring where he'd landed himself as long as it was far away. The phone continued ringing for a straight half-hour. When he finally answered it with a clipped greeting, he knew something was wrong. _

_"Where is Shuichi?" Tohma demanded without his usual polite greeting._

_"How the fuck should I know? I'm not his mother." _

_"When's the last time you saw him then?"_

_"Last night."_

_The telephone line crackled as Seguchi paused. "He didn't show up for work today."_

_"Fuck." Couldn't the brat do anything right? "He's probably just taking a day off and didn't tell anyone."_

_"He hasn't answered his phone."_

_"That's not unusual. The damned brat's phone is always dying. He never charges it."_

_"Where are you Eiri?"_

_That threw him for a second. He tried to gain his bearings and discover where he'd taken himself, a street sign, a business, anything that would tell him where he was. He finally had to give himself up. "I don't know." _

_"Well go home. I want him found." _

_"Why the hell do you care about him? I'm telling you, he's probably just at home ignoring the world and being a dumb ass." _

_"I care because the lead singer of my top band didn't show for work. I'm losing money when that happens Eiri, and you obviously don't know where the hell he is, let alone where you are. Figure it out."_

_The phone disconnected. Eiri threw it to the side and made an illegal U-turn stopped at a bus station and found a map detailing where he was exactly and how to get back to the freeway that would take him to Tokyo. _

_Grumbling, he returned home, wondering if the brat had finally killed himself in some stupid klutzy accident_

* * *

Eiri felt his chest clench. He'd been so stupid, uncaring, and now he realized that if Shuichi was every permanently gone from his life he would gratefully crumble into a thousand tiny pieces and disappear. There was no life with Shuichi.

It had been two hours. The clock was ticking loudly in the corner, passing of the seconds that led down to a final future, a single destiny. Right now there were two, a life with or a life without Shuichi. In another couple of hours there would be one.

"Nakano," Eiri said hoarsely, remaining in his crouch-like position. Hiro, still pacing, strode to Eiri's side.

"What?"

"Do you remember a few weeks ago, when I said I'd leave once this was done and I was sure Shuichi was better?"

"Sure," Hiro's tone was slightly apprehensive.

"I change my mind. I know I don't deserve him, I know he could do a hell of a lot better, but he's what I want and for some inexplicable reason he wants me too."

"As long as he's safe, I have no problems with that," he replied quietly.

"Good." Eiri said softly. Tohma and Hiroshi looked at one another and smiled.

**End**-11

**A/N**: I think we're slowly drawing to a close... I'm debating between ending it where the results of the surgery come out and ending it at a few-years-later glimpse in time. Let me know which one you'd prefer. Or I could just draw it out over ten or fifteen more chapters! Hahahahaha! (evil laugh).

Seriously though, its been a pleasure writing and listening to your reviews and critiques. Please tell me if you what kind of results you think the surgery should have, what kind of ending, be it happy or sad or random, anything you can think of. I take all suggestions into consideration and try to encorporate them into what I do so I can please everyone.

Thanks for reading... review?


	12. Praying for a Miracle

**A/N**: Thank you very much for all of your great reviews. You guys deffidently let me know what you wanted and I'm going to try to incorporate everything you've asked with some of my (as one reviewer so awesomely put it) poetic vision I had for my ending. It's really great to get feedback and know that I'm going on the right track and to know that I'm taking this in a direction the readers would like to see it go. My main goal is to please you guys (becuase Yaoi fangirls scare me like that) and to end it with a bang.

We're closer to the ending than you might think... Enjoy!

* * *

**Forgotten**  
Chapter 11: Praying for a Miracle

* * *

Time was running slower than slow, an endless expanse lay before him and behind him and it seemed to be dragging by slower and slower with every passing second. It was driving him mad, he would have loved nothing more than to scream, he wanted to break out, he needed a way out, to do anything but sit here and wait and pray for a miracle.

_Breathe in, breathe out_. He chanted mentally. Breathe and think and live for him, hope and pray and cry for him. _If he comes back he's yours, if not… well, you could always follow close behind._

"Would you like to go home Eiri, maybe get a nap and some fresh clothes and some food?" Tohma asked quietly.

Eiri looked up groggily, blinking his eyes like a newborn thing brought into a strange and yet familiar world. "How long has it been?"

"Five hours."

Eiri shook his head and set it back in his hands. "It'll be over soon."

"Are you certain? You look ready to pass out."

"It's only seven," Eiri retorted without emotion.

"But it's been a long day," Tohma countered patiently. "Why don't we all go for a walk and get some food, stretch our legs, see the sunlight."

Hiroshi stared at his boss for a long moment. "What if something happens to Shuichi?"

"We won't go far, and the doctors have emergency contact information."

"No." Eiri replied firmly. "I'm not leaving him. I promised I'd be right here, right here if he needed me, so I'll stay here."

There was silence between the three men. "Alright, Eiri," Tohma finally relented. "If that's what you want. Mr. Nakano?"

"Yeah. He's in good hands." Hiro gave Eiri a pointed glance as he spoke.

They both stood and stretched their sore and stiff muscles, making muttered promises to bring Eiri back some food. He grunted noncommittally and continued to wallow in his reverie, wondering why a doctor hadn't come out to update them on the progress.

The two had been gone for perhaps half an hour when the news came.

A doctor, obviously coming straight from the operating room judging by the bloodstains on his smock and the gloves he was ripping from his hands as he walked, came to Eiri's side.

"Well?" Eiri asked, panic edging into his voice. He stared up at the doctor imploringly.

A smile from the wizened old face of the surgeon. "He's going to be okay."

Eiri collapsed against his chair, staring into space, uncomprehending of the next few minutes of his life. As the doctor began to explain the surgery and all of its minor details Tohma and Hiro returned with bags of food in their hands. They saw the doctor and froze, waiting for the news they hadn't yet heard.

"He's going to be okay." The doctor repeated. That's when it hit Eiri and he felt it in his bones, in his heart, in his very soul. Shuichi was alive, he was going to be okay, and life was going to move on again.

Eiri felt his heart stop, and something in his thought process connected with his lungs and he took a deep breath of air and cried out. Then the darkness came. He was gone.

* * *

"Eiri, Eiri wake up!"

Tohma's soft gloves were gently smacking his cheek. He groaned, feeling in one instant the pain of each and every one of his muscles in his body. He felt sucked dry of emotion.

"Wake up, it's over, it's okay!"

Another groan. Comprehension was coming slowly, slowly, and with widened eyes he sat up and gasped for air, whispering thank you, crying madly. The doctor was speaking behind him, giving out the details, listing off all points of the surgery. Eiri felt himself being hefted to his feet, unaware of the doctor's words. He didn't care what had happened, as long as Shuichi was safe _now_.

The hands that had pulled him to his feet now embraced him in a rough hug. Nakano was shaking against him, gasping the words "thank God" in a monotonous chant. Eiri threw his arms around the guitarist and shook as well, thumping Nakano's back with his hands.

"Mr. Yuki, would you like to see him?" The doctor asked politely. Still wheezing, Eiri pulled away from Hiro and nodded, wiping at his eyes furiously. The doctor led the way to a large private room. Shuichi lay sleeping, his head wrapped in a ridiculous amount of bandages. His eyes looked purplish and bruised like he hadn't sleep in weeks. The nurses were hooking up IV's to his arms, while one doctor stood next to the heart monitor and took meticulous notes.

"How long until we know about Shuichi's memory capacity?" Tohma inquired quietly.

"As soon as he wakes up, if he recognizes any one of you we'll know it's been at least a partial success. Finding out the full range of his regained memories will take quite a bit longer."

"Thank you." Both Hiro and Tohma said. The room slowly emptied until only Eiri and Hiroshi and Tohma remained. They gathered around the bed and waited for Shuichi's eyes to flutter open. Doctors and nurses came and went, checking and monitoring and taking notes. Eiri continuously stroked Shuichi's hand, never letting the soft flesh go even for a moment. The guitarist and his boss at the food they had left to buy, offering Eiri a portion they had retrieved for him. He picked at it and then pushed it aside, his appetite lost in his hay-wire emotions.

Time had gone back for him. The world was turning again. A feeling normalcy was coming back into his life, and if only Shuichi awoke and remembered… remembered everything.

The hours passed by just as slowly as before, but there was reason to them, purpose behind the waiting. Flickers of thoughts and memories came flashing up in front of Eiri's tired eyes, memories of their first meeting, memories of the year that had followed, his time spent in New York, his time spent locked in his study, the nights of sick mind games he and Shuichi would play, vying for control and sanity.

The screaming. The fighting. The sickening nightmares. The rough sex. The drinking and smoking and meds.

He swore it would end now.

There were times he felt like he was stuck in an endless cycle of pain and forgiveness and hate and passion and pain again. He bordered on the edge almost daily, ready to release himself to memories better left forgotten, ready to fall down and never get back up. His reason for living wasn't clear, though Shuichi had probably been his only tie to life without his realizing it.

_Yes,_ he thought bitterly, _It stops now. No more pain, no more._

The clock was ticking.

* * *

Certain scents were assailing him, scents of cigarettes and spicy body soap, alcohol and chocolate cake—the special one from that bakery—he could smell these things, he could taste them, he swore it. They were sweet and bitter on his tongue, filling him with thoughts, scrambled pictures, lost and found memories that all came at him from different angles and screamed for his full attention. His brain was pounding with the effort of sorting through them all.

Hazes came and went, fogging over his eyes, sharp moments of extreme clarity and awareness of his surroundings flooded his senses, but he was unable to respond to the words spoken, and unable to decipher the sounds. The darkness of his eyelids prevented further inspection, and almost as soon as he was aware of semi-consciousness, he was gone again, lost in a void of everything he was struggling to bring back from the depths of his memory.

_Fight for it_.

He wanted to fight for it, but what that 'it' consisted of, he was unsure.

The days passed by, the years followed, the decades trailing behind. He was fighting it for years, his whole life passing him by. He could feel it, the frailty in his bones and his muscles because of the lack of use. His jaw was so stiff it was like it was wired shut, his fingers so rigid they were like unbendable claws. He was wasting away, growing old in his bed, unfeeling, unseeing.

Shuichi felt and heard and fought through all of this, until, one day in the millions of years between his last memory and this period of darkness, he opened his eyes.

"…Yu…ki…?"

* * *

**End-**12


	13. The Biggest Mistake

**A/N:** I am so so so so so sorry for all the time it took for me to get this next installment up!!!! I FINALLY got my internet back (thank God for techno-geek fathers, eh?) and as soon as it was set up this was the first thing I got on to do! I really hope you enjoy this next chapter, and I promise I will do much better about uploading the last few as we make our way to the end of this story.

* * *

**Forgotten  
Chapter 12**: The Biggest Mistake

"Eiri, I think we need to talk." Tohma said softly, pulling a chair close to his brother-in-law's.

Eiri sat silent for a moment, staring down at his lovers pale body curled in the white sheets of the hospital bed. His head was bandaged heavily, making it appear for one ridiculous moment like he might be wearing a turban. The breathing machine was clicking and gasping loudly, puffing air into the vocalist's lungs. The heart monitor was beeping steadily, as it had been for the last two days.

"About?" Replied the author in a dead voice.

"About the night Shuichi got sick."

Sooty golden eyes flickered to meet soft blue ones and then retreated. "Why?"

"I need to know what happened."

"No. You _want_ to know what happened. You don't _need_ to know a damn thing about my personal life."

A short pause, followed by a sigh. "Will you talk to me anyway?"

"What do you want to know?

"Why did you leave him?"

"I needed to get away." Eiri's deep voice was laced with the pain he felt; he couldn't hide that emotion well right now. He closed his eyes and pretended Tohma wasn't there. It worked rather well, until the blond keyboardist continued talking.

"Why did you need to get away?"

"I don't fucking know," Eiri replied, his tone more exasperated than angry. "I just needed to leave. It… he… I was feeling closed in. I had to get out. I packed all my shit and left."

"Were you planning to leave for a long time?"

"I wasn't planning a God damn thing. I just needed out, so I got out. I didn't know where I was going, what I was doing, if I would stop, go back, run my car off the road… all I knew was that I needed to leave the apartment."

"So that's why you didn't know where you were," Tohma said, thinking aloud. "When I called you that afternoon, you said you didn't have a clue where you were."

Eiri nodded, hoping that would be the end of it.

"And when you got home…?"

The question was barely a question, so vague it had no real answer. Eiri sighed and sat up a little straighter in his chair, placing his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. He took a long, deep, slow breath and let it back out in a large huff.

"When I got home he was on the floor in the living room, unconscious. I woke him up, told him to get off my floor, and started to walk away, to put my stuff back. Then he puked all over my floors and I got so angry, I could barely control myself… I dragged him into the bathroom and left him to his own devices, then cleaned his puke off my hardwood. He ended up taking a bath and when I checked in on him we started fighting. Jesus, Tohma, I don't think I could even begin to tell you what I was thinking at that point. I was just so fucking angry all the time. He was always there, in my head, in my house, in my space. I felt surrounded by him, never able to get him away from me. And just when I'm finally starting to feel normal, starting to make a break for it, get away for once, he draws me back in."

"Does he really bother you that much?"

"No." Eiri said, his voice cracking on the word. "No. I'd give anything to have him back, exactly the way it was."

"I don't mean now, Eiri," Tohma began quietly, placing a small hand on the novelist's back. "I know you'd kill to have him back now. I mean then. Obviously if he was returned to you and you went back to the exact same thing as before, this would only happen again. Something's wrong in this mix."

"Sometimes, maybe… yeah. He does bother me. But it's nothing that he's doing wrong, it's just small things that will tick me off one day, but be cute or endearing the next. There's no method to the madness." Eiri lifted his face from his hands, his golden eyes boring into Shuichi's soft face.

"I know you love him Eiri. You wouldn't have stayed so long… you wouldn't have let _him_ stay for so long if you didn't."

"Maybe it's not enough."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Shuichi loves you though, and perhaps you should think about that when you think about how close he is to you. The only reason his always there is because he loves you so much."

"I said and did some horrible things to him Tohma. I left him in the cold when he was sick."

Tohma Seguchi found himself momentarily quieted by those words. There was no denying them, for they were entirely true, but he didn't want to give his brother-in-law more excuses to wallow in hatred for himself.

"We all make mistakes."

"This was a big fucking mistake to make."

"Have you learned from it?"

"Yes." Eiri's voice cracked once again and he put his head back into his hands as he nodded vigorously. "Yes."

"Then it will be okay. The reason we make mistakes is so we can learn from them. I believe Shuichi will pull through."

Eiri's shoulders shook as he began to cry, the tears burning and blinding. Pain tore through him, hitting him like physical blows to the chest. "God forgive me." He whispered in a tormented voice, calling out to any deity known and unknown, wishing he could take it all back. "I didn't mean for it to turn out this way. God forgive me."

Tohma rubbed small circles into Eiri's back, as he covered his eyes with the other hand. From the day that Shuichi had not shown up for work, until this moment here, his emotional feelings towards the man beside him had flowed and swayed and changed as rapidly as the ocean tide. Eiri had always been a top priority to him, the novelist's wellbeing as important as his own. When he had left Shuichi out in the cold, however, those feelings had changed; the business man in him had taken over. His protectiveness had switched from Eiri to Shuichi's well-being; he'd kept his brother-in-law away from his lover, perhaps mistakenly judging by all the emotional damage done. At the time, though, he'd looked at both men as his family, keeping Shuichi safe as he recovered and keeping Eiri away as both men healed their invisible wounds.

Most of this felt like his fault, the two men he cared for most in his life were in pain, one recovering from a fatal illness, one recovering from a mental torment. Was there truly anything he could do?

"You didn't know what was wrong with Shuichi when he first got sick, Eiri." Tohma told the novelist quietly. "None of us could have foreseen this."

"Throwing him out in the middle of November during the coldest fall in the last twenty years is inexcusable. Common cold or brain tumors, letting him fend for himself with any illness… I can't forgive myself and neither should he."

Tohma didn't feel like he could say anything. No matter what he tried, Eiri was suffering and nothing would alleviate his pain.

Eiri reached out a hand slowly, tentatively, and grasped Shuichi's pale limp fingers in his own. His thumb stroked softly across the back of his palm as the two blond men sat in silence, watching and waiting.

Eiri jumped, sitting a little straighter.

"What is it?" Tohma whispered.

"He moved."

Tohma's eyes widened in shock and he gripped Eiri's arm, then rushed to the other side and grasped Shuichi's other hand in his. Indeed the fingers he clutched seemed to twitch underneath his palm. He gasped softly.

"We should call in a doctor… a nurse." Eiri said slowly, disbelievingly.

Tohma nodded, knowing it was more of a request than a statement. Eiri was stroking his thumb quickly, the movements fast and jerky, across his lovers hand. Tohma rose from his chair and hurried into the hallway, informing the first doctor he saw. The doctor nodded and rushed off to get one of the doctors assigned to Shuichi's case, and Tohma snatched his cell-phone, rushing outside to call Hiro quickly.

"He's moving." Tohma said shortly as soon as the guitarist answered.

"He's… moving…as in waking up?"

"We're not sure."

"I'm on my way." Hiro replied.

The call disconnected and Tohma rushed back into the recovery room. It was full of three doctors and a few nurses, Eiri sitting close to Shuichi, his expression pained as he refused to be moved.

"Vitals are normal, BP is…"

"I can't see anything wrong here, his pupils are normal…"

"Could it be a random muscle spasm?

"Check the medication levels; make sure that they aren't reacting…"

Tohma strode to Eiri's side. "Perhaps it would be best if we moved out of their way."

"No." Eiri growled. "I promised to stay with him."

Tohma gave the doctors a helpless glance. They nodded and worked around the two men, Eiri grasping Shuichi's hand, Tohma grasping Eiri's shoulders. For a full five minutes the doctors checked and calculated, writing down conclusions on forms and clipboards of notes.

"Everything is checking out, it's possible that his muscles are just contracting." One doctor said gently to Eiri and Tohma. "We'll keep a close eye on his progress."

"Mr. Seguchi! Mr. Yuki!" Hiro called as he came jogging down the hallway. "Is he alright?"

"He'll wake up." Eiri said quietly. "Come on Shuichi, fight for it, breaking through. I know you're strong enough."

"Enough, Eiri." Tohma said. "It'll be okay. Shuichi will wake up when he's ready."

Hiro sank back against the wall, rubbing his eyes.

Eiri dropped his head and let go of Shuichi's hand. The three men were left alone in the room, sitting in silence and hating the fact that there had been a false alarm.

But then the sheets crinkled. Shuichi's legs jerked upward and stretched back down, his arms curling as he sighed deeply by himself for the first time in two days. Eiri, Tohma, and Hiro all leaned forward, praying for this to be the time.

Two soft, glittering purple eyes fluttered open and closed and open again. Eiri's breathing became shallow; he griped Shuichi's hand tightly. Then, softly, in a thick and sleep ridden voice came the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

"…Yu…ki…?"

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Review? Comment? Critique?


	14. Recovery

**A/N:** WOW! _Over 100 reviews and counting_! I am so beyong happy right now, you have absolutely no idea! Even when the review count hit the 90's I didn't really realize how close I was to getting my first _ever_ 100 reviews. Each and every one of my reviews deserves and big thanks and something special, but since I'm no stalker I can't really give you anything but _A MILLION VIRTUAL HUGGLES_!!!!!

Best Christmas gift ever you guys, honestly. Thank you so much for sticking with me and always letting me know what is bad and good about my writing. Please keep commenting. We're slowly nearing the end!!!

**Author's Warning**: Please understand that I have absolutely no medical training of any kind. I'm basing most of my content on information from the internet and my own common sense. What I have been writing and what I will continue to write will most likely be medically false, but works well for the storyline. I ask that you keep a completely open mind and don't judge this story based on my mistakes. I apologize in advance for any obvious errors that I make.

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**Forgotten  
**Chapter 13: Recovery

His head was sleep ridden, foggy and distorting his thinking. His eyes didn't want to stay open, though he was fighting defiantly to keep awake. He sighed deeply, his lungs filling with purified oxygen. The action made him woozy and he reached up to take the oxygen mask from his face but a pair of gentle hands stopped him. He looked up blearily, having to move his face to get the object of his sight into focus.

"Yu…ki." He said again. "You're… here…"

"Of course." Eiri responded softly, his deep voice reaching a tone that sounded like a gentle caress. "I said I would be, didn't I?"

Shuichi tried to smile, but was unsure if Yuki could see it.

"Wait a minute," Eiri whispered. He turned to and said something so quickly Shuichi's befuddled brain couldn't catch it. A blob of color in the corner of the room nodded and fled to the hallway, bringing a different blob back in with him. Shuichi had to blink quite a few times in his attempts to get the world around him to focus. Once he'd managed to shake most of the fog from his head, the first thing he saw clearly was the doctor smiling down at him, pulling a pen from his pocket as he immediately rushed to the singer's side.

"Mr. Shindo, do you know where you are?"

"A… hospital?" He said it like a question. The doctor nodded.

"How about why you're here. Can you remember that?"

"Surgery… Tumor…" Shuichi squeezed his eyes shut with the effort of remembering. It was coming to him in small amounts, flashes of his most recent memories, but pulling the visions together into a logical order was proving impossible.

"My name is Dr. Kuroi. Do you remember me?"

Shuichi shook his head no.

Kuroi smiled. "Do you recognize any of these other men in the room?"

Shuichi nodded, looking to study each face. His brain immediately connected the name Yuki to the tall blond beside him, Hiroshi to the thin, brooding red-head in the corner, but there was one man he could recognize, but the name alluded him completely. "Yuki…" he said, nodding slightly to the blond. "Hiro…" he made the same motion to the red-head. "And…" he paused over Tohma's name. "I recog…nize him. I just… I can't…"

"It's alright Shuichi. It'll come." Tohma smiled at him. Shuichi tried to return a small, apologetic smile.

"How are you feeling?" The doctor continued, bringing Shuichi's full, yet meager, attention span back to him.

"Tired."

"Any pain at all?"

He had to think for a moment. There was a dull throb in his head, but he couldn't really call it pain. "Not…exactly."

The doctor gave him a concerned look. "My head… is throb…throbbing. But it… doesn't… hurt," he slurred and sighed, the words coming out like mush.

"Alright." The doctor said, pulling a tiny flashlight from his pocket. He flicked it in front of Shuichi's eyes while holding up the index finger of his opposite hand. He did it a couple times and then put away the flashlight and grasped the oxygen mask and lifted it from Shuichi's face. "I think you're doing alright. You seem to remember most everyone around you, an excellent sign, and you know where you are. I'd say you're surgery was a greater success than we hoped."

Shuichi sighed and took in a gulp of air tenderly, testing the feeling of the air around him, rather than the purer substance that had been pumped into his lungs for him. It felt okay. He closed his eyes.

"Can you breathe alright?"

"Yes." Shuichi sighed.

"Alright." Kuroi turned to Eiri and the rest. "If he starts having trouble breathing, call us in immediately. I think he's strong enough to continue by himself, but we'll keep the machinery close by, just in case." He smiled and clapped Eiri's shoulder. "Congratulations. I think he's back."

"All of his memories?" Eiri asked worriedly, looking past the doctor to Shuichi's peaceful face.

"No." Kuroi's expression was suddenly hard, letting no hope crack through his features. Eiri's face crumpled slightly. "I don't think that's a possibility given any amount of time, but he at least remembers you and Mr. Nakano. I'm sure more will come with time. Do you have any questions?"

"How long until he regains a fuller consciousness?" Tohma asked

"Probably about three weeks, maybe more. The pain medication we have him hooked to is extremely strong. He'll be out of it for a while."

"What about recovery time?" Eiri asked, still watching Shuichi's face worriedly.

"That," Kuroi said gruffly. "Will take much longer."

**End**-14


	15. Forgotten

**A/N:** I'm sorry about how short the last two chapter were. They were sort of necessary and I didn't really want to shove them together just to make one longer one, it didn't feel right. Hopefully this one will make up for that shortcoming though! As always, thanks to my wonderful reviewers. Merry Christmas!

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**Forgotten**  
**Chapter** **14**: Forgotten

_One Year Later…_

Shuichi spent two Christmas's and his twenty-second birthday in the hospital. His recovery was spent being tested, mastering muscle control, speech development, memory exercises, regaining the life he had forgotten.

He was one of the lucky ones. He could recall his most pleasant and, perhaps not so lucky, his most painful memories. He could recall the majority of his schooling; the day his dad had left, the day he and Hiro had first fought, the day they had created Bad Luck and all of their aspirations to become stars. He could remember graduation, being signed to NG, meeting Ryuichi Sakuma in person on stage at his first concert. Most importantly, he could remember almost everything about Eiri. The day they met, their first kiss, the first time they made love, every fight was a painful niche in his memory, every kiss a pang of pleasure. His life with his lover was the clearest part of his memory.

And the last fight… the night that all of it had begun… it stood out clearest in his mind, pushing to the forefront of his thought every time he had a moment of repose, a chance to be alone and think. There were many unanswered questions. Questions he wouldn't dare ask at such a crucial time in both their lives. Eiri was distraught, barely hiding his nerves under a carefully composed mask he wore continuously around Shuichi. The singer guessed that Yuki was trying to put up a strong front, to not let Shuichi's recovery be hindered even minutely by anything. In a way it was sweet, but also frustrating. An entire year of their lives was spent in this fake happiness, discussing the good times and ignoring the bad like they had never happened.

After a year had passed from the day he'd woken up in this hospital, the surgery a success, he was due to be released. Today was that day and Shuichi looked forward to it with glee and anxiety, happiness and dread mixed all in one, leaving his stomach twisted in knots. Eiri had picked out one of Shuichi's favorite outfits for him to come home in, Hiro brought Ryuichi's actual Mr. Bear as a present from the Nittle Grasper singer himself, and Tohma brought a luxurious stretch limo and privacy, using his connections to keep the paparazzi away from the hospital and Eiri's apartment for a five block radius.

"Mr. Shindo," Dr. Kuroi and Tabemono said together as they entered his room. "It's time."

He nodded and stood up, Eiri holding out his arm for support, and retreated to the bathroom to change.

Standing in front of the plain mirror in his bathroom, Shuichi examined his body. His face was sallow, gaunt and sickly compared to his countenance before, the skin on his arms and legs clung tightly to the bone. It was apparent that he had been sick, but that was over now, and he could return to life before. He hoped.

The outfit felt like it was a size to big, but diffidently tighter than the loose and papery flannel hospital gown he'd been given to wear for the last year. He raked his fingers through his short, dark hair, hoping it would grow quickly so he could restore it to it's original form. He sighed and stood a little straighter. Now was the time to return to the world, whole, complete, and alive. He stepped out of the bathroom and smiled at the group assembled. Eiri's façade nearly broke down, but he managed to hold it together and smile pleasantly. Hiro and Tohma's grins were much more pronounced. They all smile and beckoned him forward.

Eiri's arms enveloped him in their first deep hug in over a year. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

They broke apart and Eiri's exotic golden eyes met Shuichi's glittering purple. "Let's go home."

Shuichi smiled widely, a true grin reaching his lips and his eyes. "Sounds good."

The walked together down the hallway. Shuichi reached the front desk and stood there with a sense of triumph. He'd beaten his illness. He'd won.

"Here you are, darling." Said a motherly nurse at the desk, handing him a packet of forms. He signed each slowly, relishing the feeling of his freedom being handed to him mark by mark. As he finished and turned to the front door, he could see the streets of Tokyo beyond the plated glass. Boldly he took the first step, leaving Eiri, Hiro, and Tohma to follow behind. Together they reached the limo and climbed in and the driver started the car, beginning their journey forward. Shuichi held tightly to his lover's hand. The world seemed different to him, strange and foreign, previously felt only by memories he could barely grasp.

Hiro couldn't stop smiling, Eiri couldn't stop fidgeting, and Tohma couldn't stop sighing. They made their journey in comfortable tension, the anticipation of Shuichi's reintroduction into life weighing heavily on each of them.

Eiri's apartment building came into view. They stopped just outside of it and clamored out together, straightening jackets and shirts and laughing half-heartedly at nothing in particular. As they made their way up the walk Eiri subtly handed Shuichi the key to the apartment and he took it with shaking hands. The last time he had been here, he'd lain down in the exact spot he was standing, shaking and puking, sick beyond all imagination, crying and cold and too weak to pull a jacket over himself. This time was different. He could feel the new life beginning.

The key fit easily into the lock. He turned it. It clicked. With a slow, deliberate movement he pushed open the door to face the home he hadn't seen in over a year.

"SURPRISE!"

He jumped back into Eiri's arms and was met with deep laughter by his lover. In wonder he stood and watched Eiri laugh, the rare action reverberating in his consciousness. He saved it away as his first wonderful memory during this second chapter of life, and then turned to face the screaming and clapping and laughing masses of his friends and family.

His mother and sister and some aunts and uncles and cousins, his grandparents both on his mother's and father's side of the family. Suguru, K, Sakano, Mika, Ryuichi, Noriko, Tatsuha. And of course, Hiro and Tohma standing behind him with Eiri, his greatest support at his side.

The room was decorated in banners, balloons, streamers. Each balloon bundle held five round balloons with the words 'Welcome Home' decorating them in great looping letters. The streamers stretched from each corner of the room, curling around the ceiling and the walls. And the banner, it looked as though it had been hand-written, and each person in attendance had signed their name on it's surface. Some had even drawn small pictures and cartoons.

He smiled and clapped and laughed along with them, delighted to see and in some ways meet his family and friends. He hugged them all tenderly, talking to them each in great detail, saving these moments forever.

Eiri stood close by at all times, but remained quiet throughout the party. A silent partner. For now, Shuichi thought, they would have to be content with this semblance of normalcy they had built for themselves. But soon, very soon, they were going to have to talk.

* * *

That night, after his homecoming, Shuichi sat on the living room couch with Eiri's arms around his shoulders. Together they watched a TV movie, a silly comedy about a man who lived in an airport. Then suddenly during a commercial break, Eiri stood and held out his hand for Shuichi to take. The singer, confused, grasped his lovers hand and was brought to his feet. In a slow but unexpected movement Eiri pulled him close and kissed him softly and sweetly, into a more chaste kiss than the lovers had ever had.

"Come with me. I have a surprise for you." Eiri said quietly in his deep voice. He led the singer down the hallway. Outside one of the guest bedrooms he stopped and turned to his lover. "Close your eyes." He said.

Shuichi bit his lower lip in apprehension, but did as he was told. Taking both of Shuichi's hands in his Eiri led his lover into the room and turned on the lights.

"Alright," Eiri said, berating himself for allowing his nerves to show through his cracking voice. "Open them."

Shuichi did, and nearly fell to the floor in amazement. Eiri clutched him close, holding the greater portion of his body weight as the singer gasped for air in shock, and then began to cry.

The guest bedroom had been converted into a large office. Along the back wall was the window, beneath it a long table that stretched from one corner of the room to the other, covered in notebooks, sketchbooks, pencils and pens and coloring tools and art supplies galore. One corner had a small loveseat couch and a plush armchair and ottoman set. A set of three bookshelves, all empty at that moment, covered the remainder of the left wall while a huge desk covered the right, furnished with a computer monitor, mouse, speakers, and keyboard. The computer chair was dark, squashy leather, exactly like the one in Yuki's own study.

Shuichi gripped Yuki's shirt and stared into the beautiful room. It was sophisticated and funky at the same time, surprisingly just his style. The chairs were a sparsely polka dotted green and blue, the furniture a dark wood, and artfully framed posters of Nittle Grasper and Bad Luck hung on the walls, as well as one enlarged photo of himself and Yuki together, smiling and happy.

"Oh my God… Yuki. It's beautiful."

"Glad you like it." He kissed the top of the singers head with extreme caution, though the incision and scar on his scalp had been healed for months. "But it's mine. Stay out."

Shuichi looked up at Eiri, about to protest vigorously and take the man out of the gorgeous room and into the hall for a serious beat down. But his eyes met Yuki's and he saw the laughter being held inside. He smacked the older man's arm gently and kissed him. "You asshole."

"Hey, don't blame me for your gullibility."

Shuichi laughed and kissed him again. "I love it. You have absolutely no idea."

"Good."

Shuichi hugged Yuki tightly around the middle and continued to stare at his new favorite room in the house. He thought for a moment as he stood and absorbed, and then took his lovers hand in his and led him to the loveseat. Yuki followed without objecting, and sat with his tiny singer half in his lap and half on the chair.

"I want to talk with you." Shuichi said quietly, still holding tightly to Yuki's hand.

"Alright."

Shuichi blinked. He'd been expecting more resistance. "About… when this started."

Eiri nodded. "I figured you would."

"Why did you leave?"

Eiri was about to launch into his explanation of the previous year, but he caught sight of Shuichi's shimmering eyes and stopped himself, forced himself to reanalyze the story he'd lived and the reality he'd created around it. He sighed and pulled his fingers through his hair.

"Yuki…"

"Hold on. I'm thinking."

With more patience than Eiri thought Shuichi would ever be capable of handling, they sat in silence as Eiri thought deeply about the November that started it all.

"I would like to think that I left because you were driving me insane. Every day you were there, in my home, in my life, in my head, in _me_. But if I'm being honest with you and with myself, I don't think that was the real reason."

"What was it then?"

"Fear."

Shuichi remained silent as he waited for Yuki to continue.

"I'm afraid of falling for you, Shuichi. I'm afraid of spending the rest of my life with you. Not because I don't want to," the author quickly amended as he caught sight of the hurt flashing behind Shuichi's purple eyes. "But because I wasn't sure I could handle that kind of commitment."

Yuki paused for a long moment and took several deep breaths. His heart was pounding like a foolish love-struck teenager. Shuichi stroked his cheek softly and then kissed his jaw. "I told Nakano that after you got better, I would leave. I told him that I didn't deserve you—which is mostly true—and that I would see you well again and then disappear."

"But you didn't." Shuichi pointed out.

"No, I didn't. For selfish reasons, really, because I truly believe you could do better than me. I'm a bastard, and asshole, through and through. You could have any prince charming that would treat you so much better than I ever will. But I realized while you were sick that I really do… love you." Eiri gulped after he uttered those two small words.

Shuichi smiled. "I love you too."

Eiri's silence was far longer than the last. Shuichi waited patiently as his lover regained his composure and continued. "When there was that possibility that you could be… dying… I felt like my life was falling apart. I realized that there is no life without you for me. If you died, I'd follow close behind."

"No!" Shuichi exclaimed suddenly, scrambling to face his lover and ending up sitting awkwardly on his lap. "You have to promise me that if I ever, _ever_ die before you do that you will wait for you're life to end of natural causes. I won't have you killing yourself because of me!"

"We'll see." Yuki said sadly. "Can't you understand how it felt though? You were being taken away from me after just two years. To lose you so soon… I can't take another heart break like that again and survive. I'm not sure my body would let me, even if I wanted to continue living."

Shuichi stuck out his lower lip, unhappy with the iffy answer he'd received, but he deciding to let the matter drop… for now.

"Anyway, I left because I was afraid. When I'm afraid I… hide… behind this fake anger that kind of grows inside of me until I'm just generally pissed off at the whole world. When I came back home and found you that anger had grown enough that I didn't really give a shit about whether you were sick or not, but knowing now what I didn't know then, it was a horrible thing to do to you. I don't see how you could possibly forgive me."

Shuichi smoothed the shoulders of Eiri's black button-up and smiled crookedly. "I can probably forgive… eventually, but I will never forget."

Eiri nodded. "I'm always hurting you."

"No," Shuichi said softly. "Not always." And he leant forward to touch his lips to Eiri's in a gentle kiss. The two men sat comfortably, Eiri's wide hands massaging circles into Shuichi's back, Shuichi's small fingers winding nimbly into Eiri's hair, lips moving ceaselessly against each other until Shuichi broke the kiss and smiled.

"I think I've learned a little more about our life together." Eiri said in a gravelly voice, his tone husky from the kiss. "I think I know how my moods changes are interpreted. I'm going to try my hardest to stop hurting you, because I can't lose you…"

"I'm not going anywhere." Shuichi whispered.

"Thank God." Eiri replied.

The singer bent down for another kiss, putting a more insistent pressure into it this time. He threw his arms completely around his lovers shoulders, twined his fingers into the thick golden hair once again, moaning slightly at the feeling of having his body pressed fully against Eiri's. The older man growled, the sound like a purr coming straight from his chest.

"I missed you." Shuichi said, his voice muffled by Eiri's insistent lips on his own.

"I missed you more." Eiri replied.

**The End**

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A/N: Epilogue to follow. It's not really going to be a part of the story, mostly just a commentary about how everything wrapped up for everyone in the months following Shuichi's homecoming. Very short. I hope you have enjoyed this story and I look forward to writing many more in the future. Thanks so much, everyone, for your continuous support and reviews. Special thanks to moon71, whose six review streak at one point in the development in the story gave me the drive to keep at it. I owe you my gratitude for helping me birth these last few chapters!


	16. Where Are They Now?

**Epilogue**: Where Are They Now?

Three weeks after returning home Shuichi also returned to work. He is currently working on a song called _Forgotten_, in commemoration of his year-long journey through his sickness and recovery.

The singer's memory loss remains stable. The memories he has regained are as strong as ever, but the ones he is missing have not returned. Most of the gaps in his recollection are of his early childhood. The doctors believe they will not return. His tumor has, luckily, not returned. Shuichi will have to undergo routine screenings every year to make sure they do not return.

Tohma Seguchi managed to recover the billions lost from Bad Luck's hiatus by putting Suguru Fujisaki and Nakano Hiro onto a series of radio and television interviews during Shuichi's recovery. The two also held a benefit concert, playing instrumental versions of all of Bad Luck's songs. Eighty percent of ticket sales went to multiple charities supporting health investigations into brain tumors. The remaining twenty percent went directly to NG. Between these events, the President of NG reclaimed all of his lost profits, and then some.

Eiri, during Shuichi's recovery, slowly began to quit smoking. Determined to never have one of Shuichi's health problems be of his own doing, he eventually kicked the habit, and then had the entire apartment cleaned and painted to get rid of any second-hand smoke residue. He does continue to smoke one or two cigarettes--though it's an extremely rare occassion--and makes sure to do it outside when he does so. In addition, he redecorated on of his multiple spare bedrooms into Shuichi's own office as a coming home present.

Also determined to never let his temper get the better of him again, Eiri voluntarily enrolled himself into extra therapy sessions, these ones for couples counseling. He has invited Shuichi to share in these with him. After three months the two lovers have learned better communication skills and have been able to avoid fighting in most extreme incidents.

In the weeks following Shuichi's first night home, the lovers have also put their new communication skills to use talking about what had really happened. Eiri, able to better express his feelings, used the opportunity to tell Shuichi how he really felt, and Shuichi was able to see how Yuki was willing to change for him. Eiri has been forgiven for his actions, but the deed is not forgotten.

Desiring to show Shuichi that he was no longer afraid of love or afraid of commitment, Eiri purchased and engagement ring and popped the question. The two are set to be married in the summer.

**The Real End**


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